The Evil Boyfriends Series
by Lindzzz
Summary: A series of one-shots set in an alternate universe where Pitch found Jack long before the Guardians did. And then they became dysfunctional codependent boyfriends. Ratings are from K-M for each chapter and genre is everything from dark angst to fluff. Chapters are out of chronological order, but there is a method to the madness! Jack/Pitch.
1. The Blizzard of '68

In which Pitch throws a sulking tantrum and Jack is having none of it.

((AN: So as it says in the description, this story is out of chronological order. It's best to see it as a series of one shots and glimpses into this universe where Jack and Pitch are terrible, snarky, codependent partners.

This series is already finished on AO3, but i'll probably put about two chapters up a day here until it's caught up.)) 

* * *

Easter, Pitch decides, is his least favorite holiday.

Of course his least favorite holiday is usually whichever one is currently closest. But Easter, he's realized, is absolutely the worst. There is nothing that can be made scary about it in the slightest. At least Christmas is in the winter, where they can make everything difficult for all involved. Easter, on the other hand, is all bright colors and flowers and idiotic overgrown furballs who won't shut. up. about hope and life and rebirth and other such nonsense.

And are far too quick to throw punches first and ask questions never. Pitch was doing his JOB. If a few kids come out of Easter weekend with a fear of rabbits then that's all the better. It may not be the most glamorous set of nightmares he's created, but he felt like he needed to do something before he went absolutely mad.

What he got for his troubles was a boomerang to the face and three hours trying to get various pastel, glittery powders out of his clothes while ignoring the distinct way the nothern wind was giggling.

So now that Easter Sunday is actually here he is quite content to curl up under a bed in the darkest, deepest and most desolate part of his lair and feel sorry for himself until next month.

Unfortunately not everyone got the memo and Pitch sinks deeper into the shadows with a snarl when he feels a cold draft come under the bed.

"Go. Away."  
"Yeah yeah I know I know. You need your beauty-sulk. C'mere though. I got something for you."

He is so completely and entirely NOT in the mood to play one of Jack's games tonight and he lets that be known with a hiss that sounds like the writhing of a million angry snakes.

Jack is unfazed.

"God you're like a cat you know? Hissing and scratching and skulking in dark corners. I bet you'd bite me if I actually tried to reach down there."

He's tempted.

"I said go. away. Jack. I'm not interested in whatever little trinket you've made this time."

"Ouch. That hurts. Lucky for you I know my trinkets are awesome so my ego is just fine. Now come on, I seriously have something you're gonna love. Think of it as an Easter present."

"I hate Easter."

"That's the point Drama King. Don't make me drag you out. Tell you what? I'll give you to the count of three."

The shadows darken and Pitch growls furiously. "I am not a child for you to order about! I'm the boogeyman!"

"That's good for you, honey. One…"

"Jack."

"Two."

"Don't you-"

"Three!"

Pitch's snarl turns into an undignified shriek when the floor under him suddenly turns into slick ice and a gust of wind sends him sliding out across the room. He scrambles up as he hits the wall, pulling the dark around him and letting it fill every corner. He grows with the shadows, skin darkening till he's barely discernible from the yawning abyss filling the room. His eyes turn into two burning yellow orbs as he lets out a screaming roar from the depths of hell, focusing every bit of his rage at the boy standing at the foot of the bed.

A hundred years ago it would have worked. Now Jack just looks bored.

"That's very nice. One of your best ones so far." He gestures at his own mouth and adds, "I like the thing with the teeth. Nice touch. You should use that one next time we see The Bird, she'll have a fit."

Jack smiles affably as Pitch shrinks back down to his normal height with a dark scowl. Maybe if he just glares and looms enough the brat will get the hint and leave.

Once again, however, Jack refuses to catch on. He grins brightly and skips forward, completely immune to the golden eyes trying to bore holes into his skull. "There's my tall, dark, and broody Drama King! You all done now?"

"You are not funny."

"I'm hilarious. And unendingly charming. Now come oonnn!" He grabs Pitch's hand, practically dancing on the spot. Whatever he's going on about certainly has him excited. He's looking up at Pitch with those bright, adoring eyes that always end up getting the brat whatever he wants.

Not this time, Pitch thinks and he stubbornly glares at the wall instead. He refuses to give in that easily. The boy is spoiled rotten and Pitch refuses to cater to his every whim. This time he's putting his foot down. He will not leave this cavern until every gaudy pastel egg is rotting and every bit of chocolate has become a stomach ache.

He's doing a fair job of working himself back up into an incredible sulk when the cold wood of Jack's staff hooks around his neck and pulls his head down. He's startled but certainly does not yelp, and tries to keep glaring into the full force of those bright blue eyes. The boy knows entirely too well what affect those eyes have and Pitch is on to him damnit.

Jack's smile softens and he nudges Pitch's forehead with his own. "Hey, come on. I promise it'll be good. I worked really hard on this so you at least have to come see it. If you don't like it I'll let you wallow in your own misery by yourself for a month ok? Just trust me on this."

He snorts, and is considering saying no just to be contrary when Jack sneaks a chilly kiss on his nose and grins at him. Pitch narrows his eyes, giving one last half-hearted glare before he sighs.

"Fine, what is it that you're just dying to show me?" He rolls his eyes when Jack only pulls his staff away then and does his best to look as uninterested as possible when the boy grabs his hand and drags him from the shadows. Pulling him up and up towards the entrance.

He frowns when he sees a snowflake slowly drift down from the hole to his lair.

"Is that-"

Jack is nearly vibrating now and he grips Pitch's hand tighter. He's not even trying to keep his feet on the ground now as he tugs insistently. "Come on come on come on!"

Before Pitch can even mock his eagerness they're both whisked up by the wind. He manages to keep his feet under him when they're unceremoniously dropped onto the ground and he's about to remind Jack how much he HATES that damn breeze when-

"Snow…?"

He stares out at the whirling maelstrom of snow and ice. The wind is screaming and bringing down huge flakes that make it almost impossible to see for more than five feet in any direction. Jack laughs twirls with his arms out in presentation, causing a small flurry of snow to swirl up around them.

"Snow! Everywhere! Well, everywhere where I could make it snow. It was a bit hard closer to the equator but I still managed to kick up a good wind down there! But everywhere else is snow and ice!"

It's Easter Sunday and Pitch couldn't find an egg out here even if he tried. He doesn't fight the slow grin that spreads over his face as he looks out at the howling blizzard. There is no way anyone could hunt anything out here. It's an absolute disaster. A catastrophe. That overgrown jackrabbit has to be spitting nails down in his little warren.

"Oh you little devil." He breathes. "You gorgeous, marvelous, horrible little demon! This is perfect!" He seizes Jack in his arms and spins them both around, grinning as the boy laughs in delight and throws his arms around him.

Jack's smile is blinding, he'll be proud of himself for years over this and it's entirely worth it. Pitch swoops down and kisses him hard, tasting the laughter on his lips and crushing the small body to his own while the wind howls around them. They finally pull apart and Jack's grin is even brighter now, cheeks flushed and a wicked gleam in his eyes as he tweaks Pitch's nose.

"Happy Easter, Pitch."

Pitch laughs and laughs can't do anything but kiss him again and again


	2. Warning: Pet At Own Risk

Being with Pitch is a lot like living with an incredibly cranky housecat.

Jack would never say this out loud (he values his life, wellbeing, and good dreams), because Pitch would probably much rather be compared to something like a panther or some other dark, stalking, creature of the night. Because Pitch is a very vain bastard.

And Jack definitely doesn't mean one of those nice, sweet kitties who purr and cuddle up to you and smile with perfect contentment when scratched behind the ears.

Oh no. He couldn't be a NICE cat.

Pitch is the cat-haters cat.

Pitch is the cat who stalks around yowling (or, in this case, Ominously Muttering) at all hours of the night. Only to glare at Jack like he's personally insulted when finally asked what's wrong (or, more accurately, what the hell his problem is).

He'll demand on taking up all the space on the bed (or under the bed, Jack can fall asleep on top of the bed as many times as he wants and he'll always wake up under it) and disregard any amount of kicking. Then Jack will wake up sweating and completely smothered by clutching shadows and a ridiculous pile of lanky, over-heated limbs. Because at some point Pitch decided that Jack was a much better bed than the rest of the bed, (completely ignoring height and overall SIZE differences) and any attempts at dislodging him only get Jack low, warning growls.

(Jack also discovered that Pitch's shadow hands will still act on his whims when he's unconscious. The one time he was able to squirm away from the endless arms and legs that had tangled around him he had found himself instantly dragged back under the bed and held in place by at least five of the damn things. He hadn't even seen the hands coming for him and will never admit to how loud he screamed.)  
It would be fine if the aggressive cuddles were kept to the few times the two of them were actually asleep together, but Pitch, like most horrid cats, constantly demands attention. God forbid Jack focus on anything else for too long. It's almost a game to him now, seeing how long he can work on something (he's found he really likes carefully crafting sculptures, it's relaxing) without getting Tall Dark and Looming hanging over his shoulder and insisting that "Oh no you keep working on…whatever that is Jack. I'll just be here, don't mind me."

And Jack cannot COUNT the number of times Pitch simply fell over onto his lap without a word and refused to be moved. Jack once thought that maybe Pitch wanted to be pet (Jack had perhaps taken the cat metaphor too far but it was fair with the amount of petting and stroking HE had to put up with) and nearly got his hand taken off for it. One does not ruffle the King of Nightmares Hair.  
Things became FAR too stressful when he found out that sometimes Pitch DOES want to be pet. Other times he does not and getting it wrong may get you eviscerated.  
Or at least glared at. Luckily Jack built up an immunity to Pitch's patented Glares Of Terror through the wonders of constant exposure.

But the worst, the WORST is when Pitch is in a good mood. Pitch in a good mood is a huge asshole who will hide under dark areas and grab at Jacks ankles as he walks by. And you'd think nearly two hundred years of living with Mr. Terror of the Night would dull your ability to get startled. You'd think that, but Jack still finds himself jumping about a foot in the air and yelling some variation of "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" every. damn. time.

And every damn time he'll be answered by delighted cackles fading away as Pitch finds a new hiding spot.  
Because he's an asshole.

Last time Pitch was in a good mood this bullshit led to a prank war that lasted about a year and only ended when The Dream Team staged an intervention. Apparently no one appreciated Jack stealing Cottontails best sparkling dyes. They went to a good cause. By cause he means Pitch's closet. Really he was doing them a favor because they didn't need to worry about Pitch causing any trouble when he was too busy trying to make all his best dresses black again.

Currently Pitch is in one of his Walk-Around-Scowling-At-Everything moods and Jack has been getting antsy waiting for the other shoe to drop. If Pitch was an actual cat he'd be looking to see what valuable item he's vomited on. But all he can really do is sit and try to fight the urges to cover The Dramatic Bridges with ice even though he REALLY wants to see if the Nightmares will go flying out over the railings.

It's still not as bad as the solid two weeks of I'm-Going-To-Pretend-You-Don't-Exist phase Pitch went through after The Tooth Palace Incident.

But nothing was ever really as bad as the Tooth Palace Incident. They do not talk about The Tooth Palace Incident.

Jack's laying back on a pile of cushions he's been building up over the months (his hope is that if there IS no bed than he won't keep ending up under the bed) trying not to think too much about The Tooth Palace Incident when all the air is knocked out of him by a very warm, very big, and VERY heavy weight. He manages to get his breath back before long arms wind around his middle (he swears they can both wrap twice around him it's absurd) and miles of legs twine around his. He gets the feeling he's not going to be allowed to move for a while but at least this means the Scowling and Prowling has come to an end.

He's in the process of figuring out if Pitch is in a petting mood when his wrist is snatched up and his hand placed firmly in ink black hair. Jack grins and obligingly begins stroking.

"Bad day?"

"I hate Sanderson. He's an old, fat fool who can't mind his own damn business and keep his good dreams to himself! If I can't get into his insipid, mind-numbing drivel then he needs to stay away from my beautiful Nightmares!"

Jack nods understandingly. Actually he kind of likes Sandy. Out of the Happy Thoughts Brigade he's the most laid back. He's secretly Jack's favorite and there is no way he'll ever tell Pitch that.

"You want me to lob snowballs at him? Last time I tried freezing something under him he just smiled and sent a flock of giant flying fish at me. The guy's weird."

"Right now I want you to stay. here."

"Yeah because I'm totally capable of getting away it's not like I'm trapped or anything."

"I also want you to shut up."

Jack's grin gets bigger and he shifts a bit to get more comfortable. He lets his head fall back against the cushions and preps himself for what is probably going to be several hours of being unable to move.

"Not a chance." He smirks, even as he feels himself starting to doze off under the warmth pressing him down.

His hand continues running through Pitch's hair and he doesn't say another word for two hours.


	3. The Intervention: Part 1

In Which the Guardians are Concerned, and Pitch Almost Kills EVERYONE.

((AN: So, just reminding you all, if you get confused. This AU is out of chronological order, which means that there are events mentioned in here that haven't been shown within the series yet. Not to worry, the whole "Tooth Palace Incident" will all be explained soon!)) 

* * *

Pitch stands by the skeletal bed that marks his home, staring silently into the pit.

Something is wrong. He can't say why, it's an itching under his skin, a gnawing feeling that's making the nightmares nostrils flare.

He ignores them and melts into the shadow. It's a slow trip down through the winding tunnels and he runs over every surface trying to find the cause of his unease.  
It isn't until he reaches the main cavern that he figures it out.

The cages are hanging silently and not a sound echoes through the vast vaulted ceilings. The air is perfectly still. It hasn't been this completely and overwhelmingly quiet and calm since...

There's always at least a breeze here now. Even when Jack isn't here the wind is constantly playing through the labyrinth of bridges and walls because this is home. But the air is stifling and dead and if the wind isn't even here then Jack isn't just out.

He's gone.

One of the Nightmares snorts and Pitch sucks in a slow, steady breath, forcing down the clawing feeling rising up in his chest.

There's no REASON for Jack to leave, he reminds himself. Things have been...good. Very good actually.

It's been two years since the Tooth Palace. Two years since Jack slammed his staff down between them and told him No. Two years since Jack glared up at him with eyes like cracked ice and made Pitch really LOOK at him.

He hadn't been able to stop looking since. It was a year after that that looking stopped being enough and he finally grabbed Jack and kissed him hard enough to bruise. Held him and kept kissing him until the boy figured out that he was supposed to kiss Pitch back.

It was barely a week ago that Tooth had shown back up, having discovered that the little present Pitch had stolen for Jack was missing from her collection. It probably would have been a much shorter battle except Pitch had glanced up just in time to see Jack perched on the back of a Nightmare and whooping into the wind.

He had had to look twice because not only was Jack riding one of his Nightmares, but the Nightmare was actually allowing it.

And could anyone blame Pitch then, for stopping everything and calling Jack over? Jack, who then steered the creature towards him like he was BORN to it, like he was meant for this. No, no one could blame him for snatching HIS Jack down from HIS Nightmare and kissing every bit of breath from him right then and there for all to see.

They ended up getting so distracted that Jack had to lob the little gilded box back at the bird to stop the swarm of shrieking tiny featherballs from pecking them as they flew back to the lair. It had been worth it for the look of pure shock and horror on Tooth's face though. Pitch couldn't stop laughing for the rest of the day and couldn't keep himself from grabbing at Jack every five minutes. He may have technically lost that little skirmish but he had never felt so alive.

So, things had been good. So Jack shouldn't be gone.

With that in mind he sends his Nightmares out with an order to scour every damned inch of his home. There has to be a sign, a hint, SOMETHING to tell him what's happened. He follows his own path through the dark, keeping a hand along the wall to try and feel echoes of what the stone may have seen. Jack wouldn't leave. There's no reason for Jack to leave. Pitch was all he had! They believed in each other and he wouldn't LEAVE.

His hand suddenly hits cold and slick and wet and he comes to a stop so quickly that he nearly stumbles. Ice. There's a wide, halfhazard spatter of ice that's only recently begun to drip. Jack is usually more controlled, painting fine lace in frost or carefully laying just a thin enough layer of ice to make things slippery. This is a thick, uneven blotch that looks like it was thrown suddenly against the wall. It's the sort of sloppy work Jack tosses around only when he's fighting. When he's defending himself.  
Pitch hisses and the shadows become heavy and thick. Jack didn't leave. Jack had been attacked. Jack had been STOLEN. Someone had come into his home and taken what belonged to HIM.

There's a flash of color in the corner of his eye, a small bit of brightness in all the dark and gray. Pitch turns, hand slowly pulling away from the ice as he steps towards the spot of…pink?

He can hear the shrieking of the Nightmares as their burning eyes begin to circle him, sensing his agitation. The shadows drag with him and walls fade away, melting into blackness as all of his attention narrows onto a single, leafless flower sprouting up from the stone.

"The Guardians!" He spits the title like a curse, crushing the flower beneath his foot as he breathes deep, controlled breaths. The head Nightmare approaches him, snorting softly and he runs his hand along her neck, voice the dry rasping of leaves on a tombstone.

"So, they really are determined to take everything away from me, aren't they?" He pulls himself onto the Nightmare's back with a whisper of shadow and grips the reigns so hard that his knuckles creak. Without another word the cloud of Nightmares bursts forward, shrieking their master's rage into the night. He doesn't need to steer them, only thinks of the destination and their off in a mass of swirling black.

The Warren.


	4. The Intervention: Part 2

In Which Jack is VERY TIRED of Everyone's Stupidity. 

* * *

"Ow! Seriously what-!" Jack goes tumbling head first into a pile of flowers as the hole that had -suddenly opened under him what the HELL- closes again. He manages to push himself back into a sitting position just in time to see his staff carried off by a bunch of fairies.

"Hey! What!?" He yells after him as they flutter off. "You guys again!? You puffballs stopped being cute so long ago! Where am I?!"

Everything is green; it's all light and green and warm and it's all very pretty but he'd really rather be back in Pitch's dank little hole in the ground.

There's the sharp scrape of stone to his side and he looks up and there is a giant stone egg on legs and this is all officially too much for him. He scrambles backwards and yelps when his back hits damp, mossy wood.

"Easy mate easy! They're not gonna hurt you. Just makin' sure you don't go flyin' off too soon is all."

Jack stares up at the….rabbit…it's a giant rabbit. "What."

The rabbit smiles tentatively in a way that is probably supposed to be comforting. It's really not.  
Jack frowns, thinking. "Wait…no…oh my God. You're the Easter Bunny." He's starting to feel a little hysterical because NOTHING is making sense right now. "Why are you the Easter Bunny?! And why am I here?"

The rabbit, The Easter Bunny, stares at him, looking mildly horrified for some reason as he sucks a breath in through his teeth. "Crikey Tooth...you were right."

Tooth? Tooth! He whips his head around at the sound of whistling wings as Toothiana flutters up to hover right behind the rabbits shoulder. She's smiling, technically, but it's tense and strained and her hands are clasped tightly in front of her.

"Hello again Jack, sorry about all this. I just thought we should have a little talk. And I never got a chance to...thank you for helping me." She frowns, feathers ruffling briefly. "Even though you stopped helping pretty quick."

Jack blinks, this is quickly becoming the official Weirdest Day of his Life.

"Wow. Ok. Hi there Bird. I'm not gonna lie, I really was hoping to not ever see you again?"

She fluffs up at that and there's a flurry of enraged squeaking behind her from the small group of fairies that STILL have Jack's staff. Tooth holds up a dainty hand and they go quiet, though it looks like several of them are seriously thinking of taking out Jack's eyes. The rabbit is frowning now too, and WOW these people are tense.

Tooth clears her throat, feathers sleeking down again. "Jack, I know we've had our differences." He snorts and she shoots him a look but continues. "But...we're just...worried."

"Kid what the hell are you doing hanging around Pitch Black for?" The rabbit interrupts. "And more importantly, how the hell did he convince you to let him stick his tongue down your throat?"

Both of them look a little ill at that and Jack feels his face turning pink. He's going to have a TALK with Pitch about public displays of affection later if this is what happens.

"Ok ,so first of all," he holds up a finger, scowling at the two idiots in front of him, "not a kid. Second of all, he didn't talk me into anything, I joined him on my own. And THIRD of all that is none of your business, Cottontail!"  
"Name's Bunnymund, kid," Cottontail grits out, "and how old are you anyway?"

Jack puffs and scowls, "I don't know? Something around a hundred and eighty? Close to two hundred!"

He isn't sure why the overgrown hopper cares or what reaction he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't for the rabbits ears to flatten back and his eyes to widen in horror. "Bloody HELL Pitch..." he mutters, looking again like he was about to be sick. Jack is just done with this. He's sitting here being interrogated by a nosey bird and a cranky rabbit, there's dew soaking into his pants and his staff is being held captive by a bunch of glaring squeakers.

He was not impressed by any of this. At all.

"Is there a point to this? I'd rather get back before Pitch figures out I'm gone, he's kinda dramatic." He ignores their flummoxed stares and continues, "And aren't there supposed to be more of you?"

The rabbit looks like he's still trying to figure out why Jack wants to go back but Tooth recovers first, still looking at him like he grew an extra head. "It's close to Christmas I'm afraid and Sandy is always busy...we can't all really gather unless it's something that threatens everyone. But," Her determined face returns and Jack really does not know why these idiots are so stubborn about this, "they both agree with what we're doing!"

"So I'm stuck in an intervention with a spastic bird and cranky fur-ball is what you're saying?"

That apparently snaps said fur-ball back into the present and he glowers at Jack, advancing menacingly, "Now listen here you little brat-"

Tooth quickly puts herself between them, frowning as she holds Cottontail back with one hand. "Jack, look, we're just...concerned. You're not a bad person! What you did for me at the Palace-"

"Woah now that was definitely NOT for you-"

"But it was for the KIDS, Jack!"

Jack glares at her, he doesn't really want to talk about this and especially not with these guys. "I know Pitch isn't the nicest guy ok! But he does what he's MEANT to do! Yeah he gets some really stupid ideas but it's all because he feels like he has to go all out or fade away into nothing! And you all should really be THANKING me instead of trying to talk me out of this! Do you even realize how many of his stupid 'take over everything' schemes I've had to derail! And that's SINCE his little stunt at the Tooth Palace! Now seriously! Can I get back before he notices that I'm gone and this gets ten times more stupid than it already is?!"

The rabbit looks exasperated and GOOD because he's not the only one. "Kid!" he yells, looking like he's at his wits end, "I don't know what the hell you think is going on with you two but Pitch Black does. not. care! That bastard doesn't care about anything but his own ambitions! He's using you kid! He doesn't-"

It's then that everything goes dark. It's like someone suddenly blew the sun out. The air is heavy and filled with distant and growing whispers promising destruction and terror. Every feather and every hair on the two Guardians goes up on end as the hissing grows louder.

"Great" Jack groans, "now look what you've done."

Areas of shadow thicken, coalescing into a roiling, towering storm of darkness. Jack can only pick out the Nightmares by their bright, brimstone eyes and he can just make out the silhouette of Pitch in the front of it all. His only discernible features are two burning, yellow eyes and rows of silver teeth bared in a snarl. That, and the long, deadly scythe clutched in his bony hand.

The Guardians quickly move between the two, putting Jack behind them as they draw their weapons against the swarming mass and...what? Jack blinks. They are seriously moving to protect him and isn't that just precious.

"You guys are really...dumb" he says, standing up and brushing bits of grass off his cloak.

"Look, kid," Cottontail growls, "I'm pretty sure I don't actually like you,"

"Names Jack, Cottontail."

Cottontail grits his teeth and adjusts his grip on the boomerang like he's seriously considering just wanging it over Jack's head. "Alright, I know I don't like you. But would you just shut up and-"

" YOU'VE TAKEN WHAT'S MINE FOR THE LAST TIME RABBIT!"

Pitch's voice is the crumbling of mountains and the screaming of dying worlds.

"Drama King" Jack mutters. In all the chaos he manages to dodge the eggs and Guardians and grab his staff, shaking off the squealing fairies. He sets his jaw and strides towards the mass of Nightmares, ignoring the yells of "KID!" and "Jack! No!" because he is just really tired of all the stupid that's going around.

He finally reaches Pitch and crosses his arms, glaring up into the endless shadow. Pitch is so caught up in his little hissy fit that he doesn't even NOTICE the boy standing in front of him.

"I'LL RIP EVERY BIT OF YOUR PRECIOUS HOPE FROM THIS WORLD. THERE WON'T BE ANYTHING LEFT FOR YOU TO LIGHT WHEN I'M FINISHED. YOU GIVE ME BACK WHAT BELONGS TO ME NOW BEF-"

"Hey! Calm down! I'm fine!" There's a pause, then a sudden rush as the shadows swoop in on Jack. There are hands running over his face and down his sides and through his hair as if making sure every bit of him is present and accounted for. Pitch's face shifts back to it's normal glower while his eyes dart over Jack, checking for damage.

"Jack!" Thank GOD he's talking normally now, Jack's ears were starting to hurt. "What did they do to you?" Claws prick at Jacks skin as fingers dig into Jack's shoulders and Pitch pulls him in, voice a dangerous hiss. "I'll destroy them for this! I swear it! I'll-"

"Hey! No need for that! Shoosh!" Jack puts a soothing hand on Pitch's chest, half hoping that he can just force some reason into the guy by sheer force of will. "Stop that! I'm ok, we were just having a little chat alright? They're just dumb and we don't need to go destroying everything. They brought me here to have a little talk and it's not their fault that they're stupid and went about it stupidly. It's ok."

Pitch narrows his eyes and shoots a quick, deadly look up at the Guardians. But the shadows begin pulling back and light slowly leaks into the warren again as the Nightmares settle and reform. His fingers tighten into Jack's shoulders again and reel him in, ignoring the indignant "oof!" as he clutches the boy to him.

Jack is somehow able to move his head so his face is completely crushed against Pitch's chest and he manages a wheezed "I can't breathe you big lug!"

He's promptly ignored and rolls his eyes with a huff, allowing Pitch to squeeze every bit of life out of him. He has a feeling he's not going to be allowed out of grabbing distance for at least a month. His fears are confirmed when a hand begins aggressively running through his hair as Pitch snarls at the shocked Guardians.

"If any of you even THINK about touching him again-"

"Yes, I'm sure they get it! You'll flay them alive and ruin all their happy dreams and cover the world in darkness blah blah blah! Can we go home now? This day has just been an endless train of idiocy, INCLUDING YOU, and I am sick of it."

Pitch quiets, though he lets out one last rumbling growl before he spits out a "Fine!"

He yanks Jack in and both disappear in a whirling rush of shadow and Nightmares.


	5. Waking Up

In which Jack discovers that Pitch is actually a barnacle with legs.

((AN: Takes place right after The Intervention.))

* * *

It has been a really. really. long day.

And Jack isn't the sort to usually give into exhaustion. Sleep is boring, he could be DOING things instead of just dreaming about doing them!

But right now he just feels completely worn down. He doesn't even feel like he had gone through THAT much but he's just…tired. That and Pitch is storming into the lair with a fierce determination and utterly refuses to put Jack down. He's even too tired to protest being carried around like a dainty bride. So he sighs, tolerates it, relaxes, and lets it happen. He may feel a bit ridiculous but the warmth is almost soothing and he feels…safe. Even if he KNOWS he wasn't in danger, it's nice.

He doesn't realize he's drifting off right there, not even when his eyes finally, slowly, shut.

* * *

The first thing he notices when he finally wakes up is HEAT.

It's surrounding him and suffocating and there's condensation all over him and he feels like he's going to MELT and it's too much too much too much!

Then he notices it's dark. REALLY dark. It's dark and too hot and he's laying on hard, rough stone that's digging into his back and probably leaving several bruises.

He twitches back automatically but then he can't MOVE. There are long, unyielding THINGS wrapped around him and he gasps and flails and cant get out cant get out and there is some monster pulling him into the heat and dark and-

His panic is interrupted by a soft growl and the things, arms he realizes, tighten.

He blinks, going still as he pants, waking up enough to finally assess what's going on. He looks up and see's dark slats from one of the many beds that he never got around to asking about because honestly, he was a little bit afraid to. The heavy bed-skirt blocks his view of where he is but really, it's Pitch's lair. He'd look out and see grey and stone and shadows everywhere. The view never really changes much.

So he's under the bed, and the incredible heat and tangle of arms is Pitch, doing his best impression of the leggiest barnacle Jack has ever seen.

"…Pitch?"

A low, rumbling noise answers him and the arms tighten further. He definitely does NOT squeak as all the air is squeezed out of him. He does jump though when he feels LEGS tangle up with his own and hold him even more firmly.

"Um…"

It's…all a bit much actually. He had already figured out that Pitch was a pretty tactile guy. Since that first VERY surprising and REALLY intense kiss he had suddenly gone from never being touched to being touched ALL THE TIME. Pitch was constantly finding any excuse to grab onto him or keep a hand on his back or in his hair or on his face. But this was more than a couple hands petting him. There was heat against every inch of him and there was definitely a hot hand up under his shirt pressing into his bare skin and soft puffs of warm air against the top of his head.

It's then that he works out the final bit of information.

"…are you asleep?"

He's answered again with muttering growling noises and he didn't even know Pitch DID sleep. How does a nightmare king sleep? Does he dream? Wouldn't that be weird with the Sandman? He carefully shifts enough that he can look up into Pitch's face without making the arms tighten even MORE.

And he goes completely still.

He wouldn't say that Pitch looks peaceful, he's pretty sure that's impossible, but he's…relaxed. He's breathing soft and even and his mouth isn't pulled down into it's usual scowl and the frown lines on his forehead are gone. Jack slowly works a hand up, running it over those ridiculous cheekbones and can't help but chuckle when Pitch mumbles again and buries his face against Jack's hair.

He's too hot, his back is bruised, and he can barely move with all the limbs tangled around him.

But he guesses he could stay a little longer.


	6. Consume

In which Pitch gets his feelings all over the place the only way he knows how. Dubiously, creepily, and with a lot of talking.

(AN: And now, the porn. Warnings in this chapter for dubious consent, mainly because Pitch is terrible at reading body language and kind of just keeps forging ahead because he is on a mission and is terrible at handling touch sensitive virgins.))

* * *

There are times, Pitch thinks, when he simply wants to devour the boy.

He wants to sink his fingers deep into him and hold him tight enough that he can feel each breath as if it were his own.

Wants to feel the way Jack's skin gives way beneath his hands as he digs his nails into soft flesh.

He wants to pull him in and tear him open and see the way his heart beats through every vein.

Pitch wants to surround the boy, wants to fuse every bit of them until he's cold to his core and can't ever feel any warmth again.

Because at some point, Pitch had decided that Jack Frost would never be permitted to leave.

He's not sure the exact moment when it happened. The boy was meant to be a distraction at first, a simple kindred soul to make him forget, for a while, how abandoned he was in this world. He did not expect Jack to stay. To be honest he had thought he would grow tired of the young spirit's bright energy. He had always been solitary before, and didn't expect that to change. He didn't want it to change.

But Jack did stay. And then Jack began to slowly seep into every corner of Pitch's life. He still doesn't understand how it happened. It is a never ending cause of wonder. There was no reason for Jack to stay. Jack is his foil, after all. If ever there was a being so completely made to undo Pitch, it was Jack.

Because Jack was never truly afraid of him.

He would jump, and he startles easily, but then he laughs. Even the Guardians, in their smug victory, still fear him in their way. They gather and whisper and fret when he shows the slightest hint of activity and stand with nothing but their courage against him.

But Jack is more subtle, more insidious than courage. Courage is facing fear and fighting it even while it sinks its claws deep into your mind. Courage is the Guardians and their determined frowns and weapons drawn.

Jack looks into the face of fear and throws a snowball at it. He's all reckless abandon and whoops of pure joy as he rides the adrenaline of fear. Jack sees the darkest images the mind can conjure and mocks them with that bright laugh of his.

Pitch had first meant to keep the boy close because he could be too dangerous if he got away.

He sometimes wonders if he's far more dangerous where he is now.  
That laugh began infecting Pitch. He would feel it bubbling up inside him while they created menacing frosted shapes in window panes and plucked at clothes with cold fingers. He turned it into a dark sound carried by the wind and made it the creak of dry and brittle branches in the deep night. He finally let it out when Jack terrified an entire town by carefully painting what looked like faces in the ice.

Jack was his ruin, his downfall, and he was MADE for Pitch. No one else had felt that horrible, bitter pain that comes from lack of belief. Or the lost, wandering emptiness that comes from waking up one day knowing what you are and what you're meant to do, but not why. Jack is the only other being who has no memory of a past self, who woke up with a purpose and a nagging feeling that something has been lost. Who came to be and then could do nothing but exist.

But Jack had made existing fun. Pitch had always been focused on the grand terrors, the dark horrors that made men turn against each other and started wars that spanned years. But now he could laugh in delight at the small startles, the jumps in the night and the whispers that made people turn their heads and wonder about the old stories they had heard. And it was because of Jack.

Jack was perfect.

And really, it was only a matter of time before he started thinking of the boy as HIS Jack. It may have been after the Tooth Palace, when he had walked up from his lair and Jack was still there. Perched on one of the old bed posts holding his little box of memories, and not leaving. That was when Pitch had first felt that coiling possession welling up. He remembered thinking, as he looked at Jack, that it was too late for him to leave now. He had his chance to escape, but now Pitch wouldn't let him go.

But really, it happened one of the many times when he let out his screaming rage and fury onto the small, fragile boy, who only laughed. When he saw the full force of that bright, mischievous grin directed at him and could only think about how that was HIS to look at.

And once the thought of "mine" had flitted across his mind it had snagged. He couldn't stop thinking of the boy as belonging to him. Jack was his to keep, his to enjoy, his to look at. His fingers began to itch whenever Jack was close and he found himself wondering what that mouth felt like curled in a smirk against his own. Pitch had never really thought of kissing before. It simply wasn't something that fell into his area of expertise.

But he still found his eyes lingering on that smile and wondering if it was as sweet as it looked.

It was during one Jack's bright bursts of laughter that Pitch finally gave in. It had surprised him as much as it surprised Jack really. He held the boys face and swept in to quickly press his mouth to that smile before it went away. He hadn't meant for much. Just a small taste. Just enough to satisfy his curiosity.

But it had been so, so cold, and so, so sweet that he couldn't pull away. He needed more of it, felt his breath catching in his lungs as he bruised Jack's lips with his own. He ran his tongue over them, chasing the flavor of that grin and diving in when cold lips parted in a startled gasp. He held Jack still as he inhaled as much as he could and tasted every inch of that cool, brilliant smile.

He had, for a foolish second, wondered if that one taste would be enough for him. But then Jack finally relaxed against him with a small sound and Pitch felt his cold tongue run across his own. And it could never be enough then. There was Jack pressed against him and hands clinging onto his shoulders and thin ice crusting over his robe and a soft mouth moving hesitantly against him. And all of it was HIS.

It was too soon when Jack slowly pulled away with a shaky breath that frosted in the warm air. His blue eyes had been wide in shock, staring up at Pitch like he was something entirely new and strange and exhilarating. He had stared for a long time and Pitch wondered, briefly, if he had just completely destroyed everything. But then that mouth - swollen and red and shining now and oh that could never be a mistake- curled into his best pleased grin and Pitch had to go back in. He bit into Jack's laughter and felt it against his tongue and on his lips and reverberating against him from where they were pressed together.

He was completely addicted from that moment on. He doesn't know how he ever thought he could only have that once and be satisfied. He could drown in the feel of Jack's mouth. He finds himself sweeping down on Jack whenever they have a chance because he can now. He can look and touch and kiss that smile as often as we wants, which is very often.

And the touching is its own addiction. Even when he isn't kissing Jack he wants to feel that skin against his. Wants to feel that cold, smooth softness against his fingertips and short strands of hair between his fingers. He can't get enough of knowing that he CAN touch Jack. Jack is his to run his hands over and feel and own. Jack may laugh at him in, may roll his eyes and tease, but he still lets Pitch do what he wants.

So Pitch does what he wants. He touches; runs his fingers over Jacks face and through his hair and over his shoulders.

He'll wrap his hand around that slim waist just to revel in how small Jack is, how much of him fits in Pitch's palm. Pull him in tight just to feel how easy it is to surround and wrap completely around him.

He'll cup his cheek and feel how each muscle pulls into that damned smile and put a hand to his throat to feel the laugh.

He's found that he especially likes to keep a hand over Jack's cheek and jaw while they're kissing so that he can feel how Jack moves while Pitch's tongue is inside him.

Then he discovers that the nothing goes better with the taste and feel of Jack than the sound of him. Pitch only notices the small noises at first. The way Jack would suck in a quick breath as a hand ran up his side or the way it would shudder back out when his neck was caressed.

And the noises he's making now, as Pitch holds him close and drags their tongues together, are especially lovely. Jack is under him and Pitch is doing his best to cover every inch of the boy as he drinks in the tiny, broken noises Jack makes against his mouth. He has every intention of lying here for hours kissing Jack until those lips are swollen for days.

Pitch tilts his head, changing the angle and dragging his nails across the back of Jack's neck. The boy whines and twitches against him and it's the most perfect thing Pitch can think of.

There's a shift, a slight movement in Jack's body and suddenly Pitch can FEEL it. There's a cold hardness pressing into his stomach and he feels like the breath just left him because he can feel how much Jack wants HIM.

Jack is turning pink and his body is growing colder and he shifts again, trying to pull away and stammering over half formed apologies and Pitch can't allow that. He grabs Jack's hips roughly, digging his nails in and pulls him up tight, forces Jack to stay flush against him and kisses away the shocked gasps.

Pitch pulls back just enough to hear the way Jack's panting as he kisses down his jaw, thumbs stroking soothing circles over his hips. "Shhhh, it's alright Jack. That's right, let me feel it, just let go. Oh, you're a wonder..."

Jack is still just shivering, breaths coming in quick bursts and Pitch slowly, deliberately moves up; drags against that throbbing hardness and Jack's whole body jerks and Pitch smothers a groan into the cold neck. The air is filled with the sound of Jack's keening and gasping and Pitch loves the feel of each cold burst of air against his face.

Jacks hips press up on their own now, still in small aborted movements and Pitch presses harder into the grind of him, pressing his open mouth against the fluttering pulse in Jacks throat.

"Perfect, perfect you're absolutely perfect Jack, that's it, let me hear more! Oh Jack I could just consume you, that's it show me you're mine." The words leave him in a rush and his voice is a strained and hoarse thing because Jack IS his. He's his with every soft cry and in the way his hips are hitching up against him now and in the way every gasp comes with a broken whimper. It sounds like Jack's dying even as his fingers dig into Pitch's back and he whines Pitch's name like it's the only thing he can think of.

Pitch sinks his teeth in under Jack's jaw and it's almost too much, the way the skin gives and bursts under his mouth and the way Jack is holding him like he's a lifeline while writhing against him and the way Jack just wails as Pitch laps at the angry red mark he's made. He can taste Jacks sweat mixing with Jacks blood and feel Jack thrusting up into him and hear the way his voice is high and thin and barely coherent through the desperate gulps for air.

"Pitch! O-oh Pitch I-I cant! I d-dont I-I-Pitch!" Jack's pressing everything up into Pitch now and he sounds like he's being completely torn apart. There's a tinge of fear and excitement in the air and it's all just so perfect that Pitch can barely stand it. He buries his face against the bite on Jack's jaw and digs his nails into Jack's hips.

"That's it Jack it's alright, come on Jack let go. Let go that's it you gorgeous boy you're so good Jack so good." He couldn't stop the stream of words if he wanted to. But Jack pulls his face up and silences him by mashing their lips together as he screams into Pitch's mouth and Pitch is sure that every new thing this boy does is more amazing than the last.

He brings his hands up to cup Jacks jaw, keeping it in place so Pitch can kiss every small sound as Jack's body trembles with aftershocks. He moves over the rest of Jacks face, pressing his mouth over every twitching muscle and moving down to mouth at the mark on Jack's neck again. There's a thin layer of ice cold sweat all over Jack and Pitch wants to lap every trace of it up, taste what he did to Jack and run his tongue over every bit of skin that's flushed because of him.

His hand slides up Jacks shirt, hiking it out of the way so he can drag his teeth over the spot where Jack's heart is pounding and feel how Jack's ribs move with every gasp. Jack squirms a little under the attention and mutters something about "ticklish" but Pitch ignores him. He wants to taste everything and feel every bit of Jack and sample every bit of skin. He keeps moving down, smiling against Jack's stomach when he feels it shake with Jack's small burst of tired laughter. There's a hand running through his hair and Jack is a limp, vulnerable and pliant thing beneath him.

"What are you doing? You can't actually eat me you know." Pitch would like to raise a disagreement but his mouth is too busy biting into the soft skin under Jack's navel and thoroughly enjoying the way Jack jumps when he sucks on the marks. He mouths over every bit of skin he can get to but it's not nearly enough. He all but tears Jack's pants down in his haste to find out what Jack's need for him tastes like, to feel it cold on his tongue..

Pitch barely registers the strangled, choked off noise above him as he drinks in the sight, Jack lying with his shirt rucked up and pants yanked down, covered in sweat and angry red marks from Pitch's mouth and hips covered in the proof that he NEEDS Pitch. He growls when Jack moves to try and cover himself up and grabs the thin wrists, pinning them down at Jack's sides.

"Don't you dare!" He hisses, tightening his grip when Jack tries to pull away. "Besides," he drags his tongue slow and firm through the mess, stopping to nuzzle Jack's flacid cock and grinning when it twitches, "it's a little late for modesty Jack."

With that he returns to licking up every bit of Jack, only stopping to give a quick bite at the muttered "oh gross" above him. It's incredible, less sweet than Jack's smiles, saltier than his sweat and colder than ice. Pitch inhales deep as he rolls the flavors over his tongue before swallowing. He can't stop thinking that all of this is his and it's all for him and it's all because of him. He lets go of Jack's hands and drags his nails down the boy's thighs, sighing happily when Jack arches and chokes out a curse.

Even when he's licked every spare drop he can't stop, chasing the lingering taste of Jack and Jack's skin while muttering nonsense non stop. The low stream of talking only stops when he realizes that Jack is shivering and hard for him again and this time he can SEE it. Jack's erection is flushed and red and twitches as Pitch hovers over is, breathing a warm sigh over the chilled cold skin. He has to hold Jacks hips down as he leans in, breathing hot against it and slowly moving to mouth at the base. The flavor of Jacks skin is even stronger here, musky and crisp as ice and Pitch groans as he drags his tongue up the throbbing vein. Every bit of Jack is concentrated here in the impossibly cold, velvety soft shaft.

He can't manage to hold back the sharp groan as he rolls his tongue over the head where everything is even more intense. It's soft and he can feel each pulse and bursts of sharp and bitter saltiness that come with each slow drag of his tongue. Pitch digs his fingers into the meat of Jack's thighs to keep himself grounded and looks up, wanting to see everything while he tastes.

Jack is strained and arching, hands thrown up over his face and muffling the constant high mewls and whines and Pitch can't have that. He lowers his mouth and swallows around the head, pulling off slowly and rolling his tongue over the slit.

"Look at me Jack, I want to see everything, do you have any idea how incredible you are?" Jack whines and gives a jerky shake of his head, breath huffing out in harsh bursts. Pitch goes back to mouthing over the shaft, murmuring between open, wet kisses.

"It's all so much isn't it Jack? Feeling all this at once. You taste exquisite, like everything is distilled down to your base and it's all for me..." He lowers himself down and swallows as much of Jack's erection as he can, moaning when it hits the back of his throat and he just wants more of it. Wants more of Jack in him and wants to feel like he's breathing and tasting and feeling nothing but Jack. He slowly pulls back up, running his tongue up the underside of Jack's cock and quickly sucks it all back down, wanting to feel it fill his mouth again.

He wants to grin when he feels hands clench into his hair and looks up, seeing Jack staring down at him with his mouth open and gasping and eyes wide. Pitch catches Jack's gaze and holds stare as he bobs his head. There's almost no blue left now with how blown Jack's pupils are and it makes Pitch feel like he could keep going and see Jack's eyes go full black as he infected the boy to the core.

He sucks harder, moves faster and pulls Jack's hips up to try and get him deeper and he just wants more. Jack's breath is almost coming out in dragging sobs now, his cock jerking and hardening in Pitch's mouth. Pitch buries his nose in the white curls at the base and feels as much as he can as Jack screams and twitches and pulses in Pitch's mouth. Pitch nearly whines himself as he swallows down the burning cold liquid like he may die without it.

He keeps suckling gently through the aftershocks, not wanting to miss a single burst against his tongue before he pulls back. Even that is only because Jack starts pulling on his hair with high, pained whines of "Too much too much Pitch it's too much!"

Pitch gives the one last gentle kiss against the spent cock and smiles as he moves back up Jacks body. He takes his time, lingering over the marks and scratches that he's left and mouthing a few new ones in despite Jack's slurred protests. He finally reaches back to kiss that sweet mouth and laughs when Jack pulls away with a face and a muttered "Oh no! Gross! You taste gross!"

He'd prefer to stay and kiss Jack for the next few hours but lets himself be content with wrapping as much of himself as he can around the boy and burying his face against the soft white hair. Jack is limp as a doll and Pitch arranges him as he see's fit until he has Jack curled into his chest and his head is tucked under Pitch's chin. When he's finally satisfied with their positioning he sighs and runs a hand up and down Jacks back.

"You are absolutely marvelous." He purrs. Jack moves and gives a tired, drunk giggle.

"You...I don't know. I'll know later. I can't think right now. Wow." The boy breaks off with a yawn and curls more into Pitch with a content sigh.

Pitch doesn't even try to hold back the wide grin spreading over his face. His mouth is almost numb from cold, his throat feels raw, and Jack is small and soft and cool in his arms as he drifts to sleep.

Everything is perfect.


	7. The Tooth Palace Incident: Part 1

Jack really wants to trust Pitch.

And he does! Really! Pitch believes in him. Pitch saw him when no one else would, took him in, showed him how to get people's attention. He didn't have many believers but there were stories about him now. The name "Jack Frost" was becoming known and it was because of Pitch.

So he really wants to just trust Pitch and his plans.

But he's having trouble following this current idea.

"The…teeth?" Jack adjusts the grip on his staff nervously. Pitch is practically vibrating with excitement and keeps pacing back and forth, hands gesturing wildly.

"The teeth, Jack! Oh it's perfect! Absolutely perfect! I'm amazed I didn't think of it sooner! This is our chance, our chance to make the whole WORLD see us! Both of us!"

Jack still isn't following. It sounds great, really, but…

"…but why the teeth? I mean, they're teeth!" If Jack thinks about it too much it's actually pretty gross. Really. Teeth.

Pitch spins to face him, grin almost wide enough to split his face and eyes gleaming grey and gold. "Oh they're more than that Jack! They're memories." He laughs in delight and sweeps in to put a hand on Jacks shoulder, voice lowering like he's telling a delightful secret. "Every happy little memory from a child's life is in those teeth the fairies collect. That's why they take them! It's all the perfect and delightful memories of childhood that stop them from being afraid!"

Jack tenses, partially from how searingly hot Pitch's hand feels and partially because he's liking the sound of this plan less and less. "And we're….going to take them?"

Pitch's grin somehow grows wider and he laughs again as he pulls away, leaving Jack's shoulder feeling over-warm from where he had gripped it.

"Exactly! WE take them and then there won't be anything, ANYTHING, keeping their fears at bay! Oh it's perfect! And with you I can do it! On my own I don't have nearly enough Nightmares! It would take centuries to find enough. I'd probably have to try and find a new way to make more on my own. But together we can do this!"

Jack tightens his grip on his staff and frowns. He…doesn't like this. He doesn't really WANT to take away the happy memories of a bunch of kids. From what he's seen that's all some kids even have. He knows Pitch's purpose is fear, to make people afraid of the dark. And Jack is alright with that! It's what they do! Sometimes he'll even help because making people jump is fun.

But Jack likes kids best when they're laughing and playing in his snow. He likes to think that he made some of those happy memories. And he doesn't have too many of his own, he doesn't really want to take that away from kids.

Pitch is still talking, still almost dancing with excitement and petting his favorite nightmare as he laughs. Jack doesn't want to take that away either. Pitch smiles a little more lately but it's still not often, and Jack likes how Pitch looks when his shoulders aren't bowed like they're carrying the weight of millions.

But…

"Jack this is brilliant! The little brats will know us before the month is through! I couldn't do this without you, we're perfect! I'll need a little time to prepare the Nightmares but we should be able to-"

Jack closes his eyes, grips his staff so hard he can feel the wood biting into his palm. He takes a deep breath and holds it for a second before he lets it out, slow and steady and calm.  
"No."

There's a pause, where Jack can only hear his own breathing and his own heartbeat. The silence is thick and suffocating and tense. Pitch is facing away from him, still as stone, the hand on the nose of his nightmare tensing as he turns his head just enough to look over his shoulder. The sharp shadows of his face are deeper than usual and his eye gleams silver as it focuses on Jack.

"No what, Jack?"

Jack braces himself and takes another slow breath, it feels like there's not enough air in the room and the shadows are growing darker. He doesn't look down because he knows they're all creeping toward him, sliding and curling to focus on where he's standing.

"No. I'm not going to do it. I won't help you. Not this time."

There's a low hissing filling the air as Pitch calmly pulls away from the Nightmare to face Jack. His face is carefully blank but his eyes are burning as he slowly stalks towards him. "This is our chance, Jack. You can't back away now. Not after all this time."

Jack clenches his jaw, stands his ground, and refuses to let the growing shadows intimidate him. "I won't do it Pitch! I'm not going to take away the memories of a bunch of kids! I don't care if it'll help us I won't do it!"

The hissing is suddenly a shrieking in the air and the Pitch's face breaks, distorting in rage. All the careful calm is gone as he bares razor teeth and his eyes turn into two glowing points of brimstone in pits of black. Jack doesn't see the hand that whips out to grabs his throat and he finds himself hoisted up like a rag, gasping for air.

"After all I've done for you!? THIS is your answer! I MADE you what you are! I saw you when no one else would! I BELIEVE in you Jack!" Jack chokes and scrambles desperately at Pitch's arm before he remembers his staff and swings wildly. There's a sharp crack and he falls hard to the ground, wincing on impact.

"I won't do it Pitch! I want to trust you but I can't do this!" He pulls himself up and looks up into an endless chasm of roiling shadow. Pitch's voice is deafening and Jack tries to cover his ears against the harsh shrieking crash of it coming from every angle.

"TRUST!? TRUST! WE WERE IN THIS TOGETHER BOY! YOU AND ME! I GIVE YOU THIS CHANCE FOR US TO TAKE THE WORLD AND YOU TELL ME NO!? YOU CAN GO BACK TO BEING ALONE! GO BACK TO YOUR PALE, SAD, PATHETIC EXISTENCE TRYING TO MAKE PEOPLE SEE YOUR LITTLE SNOWBALLS AND FLURRIES!"

"Pitch we were doing fine! We were getting believers again! We don't have to throw everything into some stupid-"

"STUPID?" Pitch dives in at him, voice lowering back down to a hiss as claws dig into Jacks clothes from all sides. "Fine!? You don't understand the meaning of belief! You think a couple people telling hushed stories around the fire is fine!? Are you really satisfied with the little songs they make about you!? You're a fool, Jack! And you haven't even begun to know the meaning of nightmares! You won't be able to THINK when I'm done with your mind!"

"I'm not afraid of you!"

Everything goes quiet again. Pitch freezes, face melting back into his features and the rage fades into something more guarded. His hands slowly unclench from where they were fisted in Jack's shirt and Pitch carefully eases away, eyes flicking over Jack like he's something new and dangerous.

"No…" He says softly "No you're not. Not really, anyway." He stands and carefully straightens out his robe and gives Jack a long, searching look before turning away.

"Get out, Jack."

Jack blinks at him, staring in disbelief at the retreating form. "What? You can't just-"

"I said get out! I don't need your help for this!" Pitch goes back to his Nightmare and runs a hand along her neck, pointedly looking at only her. "I don't need YOU for anything!"

Jack finds his mouth falling open because really? Pitch is actually going to go through with this still... "You're going to try? You said you couldn't do it on your own!"

"I lied!" Pitch snaps. "If you really think YOU could make that big of a difference in my plans then you're more stupid than I thought! Really, what would you do? Throw a snowball at Toothiana? Honestly it's better this way without your nagging distracting me."

Jack snorts. "You're an idiot. Fine. I'm leaving then. Just don't expect to see me again if you do this."

"That's my intention." Pitch hisses.

There's something hot and sick and roiling clenching up inside Jack. He stands for a few moments longer, fighting it down and staring at Pitch's back, willing him to turn around and FACE him. But Pitch continues to ignore him and Jack deflates, huffing out a short puff of frost.

"Yeah. Whatever." He mutters, calling the wind around him and letting it pull him away. There are some things he needs to do if Pitch is actually going to go for this stupid plan.

He flies out, and doesn't see Pitch whip around to stare at him as he leaves.

"Just come HERE you little bug!"

This may not have been Jack's best idea. It had seemed straight forward enough! He didn't know where the Tooth Fairy's home was so all he had to do was wait around at night, catch one of the little helper fairies and get one of THEM to tell him.

He hadn't anticipated how FAST the tiny things were.

"Look I'm sorry about using you guys as target practice before but that's in the past right?! I'm not going to hurt you I promise ok I just need to- WOAH!" The little creature he'd been chasing had decided that she was tired of this game and apparently figured it'd be more fun to try and peck out Jack's eyes.

"Stop that! I said I was sorry! Ow! Hey!" He has to dodge the sharp beak and is pretty sure that the angry squeaks translate into something just rude. "Stop Ok!? I just have a question! Would you just-"  
Jack flails at her and actually manages to grab a hold, gripping the tiny body before she can fly off.

"HAH! Got ya! Aahhh no stop-" The air is filled with angry shrieking and Jack has to stop himself from dropping her to put his hands over his ears. How can such a tiny thing make that much NOISE. The fairy only gets louder when he tries to shush her, squealing out into the night like she's trying to get something's attention.

"Look would you SHUSH!? Oh my God I won't be able to hear for a week! I just need to ask you something! It's not like anything is going to hear you any-OOF."

Judging by the sudden mass slamming into his side, he was wrong. He barely had time to register the whistling in the air before something large and warm sends him tumbling out of the sky.

He finds his staff suddenly yanked out of reach as he goes down and ends up crashing into a roof hard enough that he just lays there groaning. He's still trying to get air back into his lungs when something lands heavy on his chest, his staff is slammed down next to his head, and a gleaming wicked golden blade is held up against his throat.

"What do you think you're doing with my fairies?" Jack coughs and stares up at a pair of jewel-like, glaring eyes. At any other time he'd actually admire how outright PRETTY the Tooth Fairy is. She's all colors and feathers and large, bright eyes and dainty lacy wings.

Right now he is paying far more attention to the sword at his neck.

"Look-" he wheezes. He doesn't get to continue because she suddenly narrows her eyes and the blade presses a little into his skin.

"I recognize you…you're that boy who's been hanging around Pitch Black." She crouches where she's standing on his chest and bares her teeth, the feathers on her head flaring out around her delicate features. "What are you trying to do with my girls?"

"Nothing!" Jack chokes out, still trying to keep his eyes at the sword. "Nothing! Look, I'm not helping Pitch with anything right now! I was trying to find you and thought that the little bu- the fairies would be able to help!"

"And you thought they'd help you if you just grabbed one?"

"Well I had tried asking nicely! And she tried to take my eyes out!" He shoots a quick look at the fairy who's chattering angrily at him from behind Toothiana's shoulder. "Yeah? Well right back at you, bug!"

Tooth glances over at the fairy and she goes quiet with a final angry squeak at Jack. "Why were you trying to find me? Your mentor and I aren't exactly on the best terms."

"Because he's being dumb ok? I was trying to find you to warn you that he's got this big scheme in his head to take all the teeth!" That's got her attention. The feathers all over her body ruffle and the hand on her sword clenches.

"The teeth? Why does he want the teeth?"

"Because he's stupid? He was going on about taking away the memories that keep kids from being afraid and was all convinced that this would put him back in power or something! So I came to warn you!"

She regards him carefully and the sword pulls away just slightly, though it's still trained on his throat. "You're Pitch's lackey, why are you warning me of anything that he does?"

"Ok first of all, partner, not lackey. And I don't like it ok? I don't want to help with anything that would hurt a bunch of kids like taking their good memories away! I told him I wanted nothing to do with it and uh…well he kicked me out but then I came to try and find you. Which I did, I guess."

She narrows her eyes and looks him over for a moment before slowly lifting off of him and taking her sword back. She still keeps a tight grip on his staff though and is looking at him suspiciously.

"You're…worried about the kids?"

Jack carefully pushes himself up onto his elbows, rubbing a hand over the slight nic she left on his neck. "I like kids. " He says carefully. "I mean, I don't want to hurt any of them. I help Pitch with some of his frights because scaring doesn't really hurt anything. Sometimes it helps them be afraid and stay away from what WILL hurt them. And I like Pitch, but I can't let him do this."

The fairy watches him push himself up and frowns in thought for a few seconds. She finally holds his staff out to him saying, "Don't make me regret this. What's your name anyway?"

"Jack." He sighs in relief when his hand touches the cold wood again and frost dances over the old grooves. "I'm uh, Jack Frost."

She suddenly smiles and it's like her entire body lights up. "Well Jack, you can call me Tooth. And I'm not really sure I should, but I'm going to trust you on this."

He grins back, it's hard not to in the face of all that color and light. One of the fairies that have gathered around Tooth makes a weird squealing noise and…faints? The others crowd in close around him with excited chirps.

"Girls, please." Tooth sighs, though she's eyeing Jack's mouth like a shark and it's getting unnerving. "So you'll really help me stop Pitch then?"

"I'm…" Jack pauses and licks his lips, "Look I'm not switching sides or anything ok? I just don't like what he's doing and maybe…I don't know I still hope I can talk some sense into him."

Tooth snorts in disbelief and shrugs with a tired smile at him. "We've tried that Jack, but you can have a go at it if you really must. Come on."

Jack hesitates for just a moment and then flies up to where she's hovering. "This is really going to get ugly."

She just smiles a little sadly at him and leads him away, swords gripped in her delicate hands.

Jack isn't quite sure if this plan is any smarter than Pitch's, but he has to do SOMETHING.


	8. The Tooth Palace Incident: Part 2

It was, Pitch would only admit to himself, not his best plan.

He grits his teeth as he paces one of the many gleaming balconies of the Tooth Palace. Getting here had gone so smoothly that he almost thought that fortune was on his side for once. The Queen had been called away for some reason and it had been all too easy to sweep the little fairies out of the way and clear the palace.

Now though, he found himself alone, trying to figure out how to gather the teeth, while his Nightmares swirled around the place, keeping the swarms of shrieking fairies out.

If Jack were here...

Pitch clenches his jaw and fists his hands until he can feel his bones creaking. He refuses think about that! He already allowed Frost to push him into acting rashly. Jack abandoned him. That was that. The only thing that changed was his current plan.

Which he really did need more Nightmares for.

He looks out at where his small herd is circling the palace and hisses under his breath when his eyes move to the massive tower lined with small shining boxes. This, he thinks, as he slips into a nearby shadow and steps out on the central tower, was probably the stupidest thing he had ever done.

Well, the execution of it anyway, the original plan was perfect. Flawless. It would have gone splendidly if-

But he wasn't thinking about that.

He storms down the walkway that wraps around the tower, eyeing the endless little doors with the bright smiling faces of countless children and their wonderful, bright, idiotic memories. He only has a limited time before the mother hen returns and he's not nearly strong enough to try and defeat her yet.

If he hadn't been so caught up in his own rage...if he had more Nightmares...

If he had Jack...

Pitch snarls, and clenches his hands. That doesn't matter. What matters is that he's now stuck trying to figure out how to get several billion boxes of teeth out on his own while his Nightmares fend off an increasingly loud swarm of sharp-beaked fairies. He could just leave, but at this point he feels like he has to at least TRY something.

He continues walking up the spiral and glowering at the teeth, shadows hissing around him. He needs to calm down, there are already a couple of Nightmares who've paused to eye him with too much interest.

He stops to get himself under control, runs his hands back through his hair and glares at the wall of faces like this is entirely their fault. Since when were there so many children? When were the humans allowed to BREED this much?

He lets out a low growl as his hands fist in his hair as he continues to stare at the endless smiling faces. He's ready to just pull out his scythe and go to town on the whole damn place when one of the faces catches his eye. It makes him go rigid and he has to force himself to move towards it, hands slowly lowering as he fixates on the simple image.

The colors are wrong, the hair and eyes are a dark, plain brown and skin a healthy glowing pink.

But there's that smile. He'd recognize that smile anywhere. Cocky and mischievous and paired with gleaming eyes.

Pitch stands in front of it for far longer than he should. His hands twitch at his sides.

He's unaware that he's even reaching for the little door until he's already opening it and pulling the small glittering container out.

He turns it carefully in his hands, fingers brushing over the jeweled top and running along the sides. He suddenly, desperately, wants to open it. Wants to see what's inside and wants to know for sure that it's who he thinks it is. He knows that only a fairy or the owner of the teeth can open it, but he still feels it over, half hoping that he'll find some seam or latch.

His thumb runs across a ridge, a change from the smooth carvings and he slowly turns the box. There's an engraving on the back and he breathes out slowly through his teeth when he reads it.

Jackson Overland Frost.

His fingers tighten on the box and he's not sure if he wants to throw it or put it back or...

He rubs his thumb over the name as he thinks. These are Jack's memories. He had actually been someone before. What had happened? Why would the Old Man wipe the boy's mind if he had had a past? Pitch simply was, he was fear and fear had no need for history. Fear simply existed, and so had Pitch. But Jack...

He glances at the moon, bright and staring down at him as always. "Sometimes, you are far more cruel than I could ever hope to be, old friend."

He pulls the box into the shadows of his robes, tucks it quietly next to a locket that he'll never open.

His hands twitch again, he's not quite sure what to do with them now so he folds them behind his back again, though he can't find the old rage. He's just...tired now. It's a familiar, sinking feeling that makes him want to find a dark, deep shadow somewhere small and curl up in it, lose himself in someone else's bad dream.

Really, he should have known this would happen. He had known it, at first. Jack was temporary, Jack would leave or Pitch would get rid of him and the distraction would be over. It had been foolish to believe otherwise, however briefly.

And just like that the anger rushes back, quieter now, coiling deep in his chest and making everything feel tight and clamped. He bares his teeth, reminds himself that he's not thinking about that.

He's here for a purpose and the boy was no longer here to distract him. Jack Frost wasn't worth wasting his thoughts on.

So he reaches for another box, still not sure what his plan is, when there's a faint whistling in the air.

"Ah, so there's the little bird." He smiles, pulls the shadows in close and lets them build around him. He may not be ready for her but he's certainly not going down without style. He's about to turn to laugh in her face when he's nearly knocked to the side by a bright burst.

"What-?" He manages to recover before he hits the ground and looks up.

Ice, there's ice covering up the painted door he was reaching for.

And he can't breathe, can't turn around fast enough. He almost falls again in his haste to look, to see if-

"Jack..."

It's Jack.

Jack, high above him, staring down with his staff still held in front of him from the blast of ice he had sent.

That he had sent at Pitch.

There's Jack and he's here and he shouldn't be here because he LEFT.

But he's here and flying next to Toothiana.

He's with her.

Against Pitch.

Jack is with Toothiana and they're both coming for him. Both gripping their weapons with faces drawn and determined and Jack it's Jack Jack is here and he's with HER and he left he can't be here!

Pitch has to take a shaking step back, has to stare because he can't understand. Jack is here.

Jack is with her.

Jack is with them. He left Pitch and then went and chose THEM.

The hissing starts quiet, grows steadily and quickly until he's screaming Jack's name, scythe in his hand before he can even think about drawing it.

Jack is with Tooth.

And Pitch is going to watch him bleed and scream.


	9. The Tooth Palace Incident: Part 3

Jack's never seen him like this.

Pitch is hardly recognizable now, there's nothing but a mass of ink black and thousands of sharp-toothed mouths screaming his name, yellow eyes burning through black and writhing in the shadows that hint at other creatures clawing and squirming. Jack has seen Pitch turn into a mass of shadow before; he's watched him melt into something amorphous and swirling and dark.

But this is different. It has weight and form in a way that Pitch's normal shadow never did. It has a density and a thickness in places that hint at a tall slim form that shifts with every slide of shadow. Jack can't even look at it for too long without his eyes hurting because he can't figure out HOW he's seeing the shift. There is no lighter or darker, there's just blackness, eyes, and more blackness.

"This was such a bad idea." He says weakly. Even Tooth looks horrified and Jack had thought she would be used to displays like this.

"Jack, stay back here. You've done enough, let me take care of this." She looks so earnest and worried, and Jack feels something in his chest tighten and twist at the look in her eyes.

He's almost tempted, for a heartbeat, to nod and agree to whatever she says. To let her take over and then go wherever she wants. She has no reason to look at him like that, they only just met and she was holding a sword to his throat not two hours ago.

He swallows thickly and can't look away from how worried she is about him. He doesn't know what to even BEGIN to think about it.

"You've been really nice to me...I don't get it." She smiles then and reaches for him, putting a small hand on his shoulder.

"You're not a bad guy Jack! You don't-"

A scream tears the air like nails over stone and they both yank away to cover their ears.

Pitch's shadows are shrinking in, sliding over bright stone and slithering up into something condensed and solid until he's standing in his own form again.

Jack has a feeling that this isn't a sign that Pitch has calmed down. Every bit of him is solid black except for the acid yellow of his eyes gleaming right at Jack.

He's also standing stone still, scythe gripped tight in one hand, and that isn't normal. Pitch is movement and nonstop pacing and hand waving and barely contained energy. But now he looks like something carved from flat black rock. It's not natural and Jack knows that it is not good; so, so not good.

The last echoes of the scream die out and what's left is...nothing. There's no sound but the wind in Jack's ears and the whispering of the swarming Nightmares that are all that stand between him and Pitch. It's a clawing, heavy silence that feels like nails raking up Jack's spine and heat blasting against his face.

His breath stops for a second where he SWEARS he can feel red hot blades sliding over his skin and drawing blood from a thousand points.

He tightens the grip on his staff, buries himself in the feel of the cold against his hands until the heat on his flesh goes away and he can breathe again.

"I think I preferred the screaming..." He says with a shaky laugh.

He can't look away though. Honestly he never would have thought that Pitch would react like this. He expected the screaming, expected more of the sort of yelling and abuse he got back when this all started. Jack came here expecting Pitch to either be throwing a fit or to have already written him off as not worth it.

But Pitch isn't even looking at Tooth, he isn't looking at the wall of teeth he came here for, he's still and quiet and nothing but focused rage all aimed at Jack.

And Jack is more confused by that than he was by Tooth's concern.

His eyes glance over to where Tooth is, and she looks far less uncertain than he feels. Her face is pale, but her feathers are all but glowing and her sword gleams in the light as she adjusts her grip.

She's radiant in her rage, strong and confident in her belief. Jack can't understand that, he can't wrap his head around someone so believed in that they could form an entire palace like this from their belief. Someone so believed in and confident that they don't even flinch in front of something like Pitch.

But even though it confuses him, Pitch's rage is something he can understand. It's a desperate cry and scream against loneliness that sounds like the way the winter wind would howl when Jack tried to block out the sounds of the world.

The bright golden flash of Tooth's blade catches his eye again and he stares at it. All she sees is an interloper; maybe assumes that Pitch is just up to some scheme to rule the world again.

She couldn't understand that crushing feeling that comes when someone phases through you. She never had her insides torn out by a child who couldn't see her.

She would dive in with her brilliant sword and blinding belief and not understand anything.

She must feel his gaze because she glances over, catches his eye and gives him an encouraging smile.

"Don't worry Jack, I can take care of this." He just stares wide eyed. He knows that. He knows she'll take care of it. That's kind of the problem.

He grips his staff tight and swallows, not knowing what to do or what to say and Tooth must see something in his face because her smile softens into something gentle and comforting. "I just want to say...thanks. You did the right thing, Jack."

He feels sick and something like guilt twists in his chest. He knows he did the right thing, but he doesn't want to see her smiling at him like that right now.  
Wood creaks under his hands as he changes his grip just slightly. "Yeah...I...um...I'm sorry."

She frowns, feathers in her forehead ruffling in confusion and he uses that moment to swing with all his might. The staff doesn't hit her but the wind it makes slams into her like a wall, sending her tumbling through the air with a startled cry.

Jack winces but doesn't give her time to recover and come zipping back with that sword of hers. He grits his teeth and concentrates, pushing the wind into a whirling wall that keeps her out where she is now. He can hear faint traces of her enraged yelling over the howling of the air.

"Sorry!" He says again, even though there's no chance she can hear him, "I just...I need to do something and you're there with that sword! It would be distracting!"

The wind may be whipping in his ears but he still catches the shift in the underlying silence. It dulls, becomes slightly less dangerous and menacing.

Jack turns and jumps when he sees that the Nightmares have stopped their swarming and are now watching him with interest as they drift. Down below, Pitch has lightened to his normal self, eyes still on Jack, though now they're narrowed into a perplexed frown.

Jack drifts down slowly, eyeing the scythe while Pitch eyes him. After all the tension and drama before everything just seems...awkward now. He lands carefully a little distance from where Pitch is, and they consider each other for a long moment.

"Have you changed your mind?" Pitch finally asks. He sounds cautious and he looks...not quite hopeful, but something very close to it. Jack feels another guilty twist at how earnest Pitch looks, he really wants people to stop looking at him with so much expectation.

"No...I just wante-" he never gets to say WHAT he wanted because he has to duck the scythe that comes slicing towards his midsection. Apparently Pitch only heard the 'no' part and disregarded anything else.

"Pitch! Sto-AH!" He goes rolling when the wicked point of the long blade buries itself into the ground where he was crouched. Pitch doesn't even try to pull it from the stone and just lets it fade into shadow again as he gathers thick darkness into his palms.

"You should have just stayed away Jack!" He snarls, throwing something sharp and infinitely black at Jack, who smacks it away with his staff as he jumps back. "You made your choice and should have known better than to show your face here!"

Jack huffs in irritation as he dodges another projectile. "I didn't choose anything! I-" He yelps when one of Pitch's throws nearly takes off his head and that is IT!

Ice crackles along wood and Jack yells when he launches at Pitch, managing to knock him back a few paces with a blast that leaves the air around them filled with powdered ice. Pitch bounces back almost immediately, the shadows swirling around him and flying towards Jack.

"We could have had this!" He yells, pulling the scythe out again when Jack manages to dodge all of his shadows. "We could have had the world and you DARE come back here after telling me no!? You dared to come back with her and think I would just chit chat with you!?"

Jack flies in every direction, throwing ice and wind at Pitch while knocking the wide blade aside with his staff. "I didn't choose anything! I didn't choose them and I didn't choose to leave! But I'm not going to just sit around while you ruin everything!"

"I'm doing what I have to do! I'll do what it takes to survive!" Pitch leaps at him and Jack has to throw up his staff to block the scythe coming down on him. He thinks, almost hysterically, that it's a small miracle that the wood didn't snap under the weight. Pitch snarls and bears down on him, eyes blazing. "You wouldn't understand, you simple minded child! You have no idea what it's like!"

Jack snarls back at him, nearly shaking in frustration as he hollers back. "Yes I do! You old moron!" He finally throws Pitch off and leaps into the air, yelling wordlessly as he blasts ice at him as hard as he can. He actually manages a hit this time and pins Pitch to the tower with a thick coat of ice over one of his hands.

Jack lands down on the walkway again, hands balling into fists as he fights the urge to go over and just grab Pitch by the shoulders and shake him until he stops being an idiot. "I understand! I know why you're doing this but that doesn't mean I agree with it!"

Pitch bares his teeth, trying to tug his hand away, "You can't possibly have an idea-"

"It's like they're ripping my insides out! Every time someone walks through me it's like they've punched through and left me hollow and everything is hot and empty because they took it all with them!" He can feel himself shaking again, breath catching in his throat because he can FEEL it. He can't think of that feeling without it sinking in and digging his chest out. He can feel the rage trickling away in the wake of that memory.

"And they always just...keep walking. They smile or laugh or keep doing whatever they were doing while you try to figure out where your lungs went and try to get your heart to start beating again."

Pitch goes completely still again, eyes wide as he stares at Jack with something akin to horror. "You-"

"That's one of my earliest memories." Jack continues, he doesn't even want to keep talking but can't stop now. "I...I had gone to a village because I wanted to, I don't know, show off. I didn't know who I was really but I somehow knew that people would like my frost and my snow. And I went to ask a little kid where I was and they...they just tore right through me. No one could see me or hear me no matter how much I yelled at them."

He has to stop and take a deep breath, he needs to stop entirely. Pitch is silent still and that is never a good sign. But it's like something got ripped open and Jack can't stop everything from flooding out now. "And you keep trying...you keep trying as hard as you can to make them see you. Even if it never works you can't stop trying and you just...pull all the stops. Make things amazing and loud and wonderful and all but write your name in front of them and nothing ever works. And sometimes all you can do is scream in front of them but that doesn't work either. All it does is make more wind and they'll just go right through laughing about how cold it is. It didn't matter what I did, no one saw me."

Jack can feel his hands shaking and grips his staff tighter to try and make it stop. Pitch looks like he's being gutted. He looks raw and torn open and he shouldn't look like that. It's like Jack is torturing him. But still hangs on to every word.

"You saw me though." Jack says quietly. "I mean, you didn't pay too much attention to me. But you talked to me. You gave me more than anyone else ever had." He looks down at his staff, digs his nails nervously into the grooves so he doesn't have to see Pitch's face.

"I didn't get why you let me follow you around all the time. I get it now though. I got it when I saw someone walk through you and your face looked the same way I always felt. You were right I guess, you never do get used to it."

"And you were right earlier," Jack adds, tensing and frowning down at the grooves of his staff, not at Pitch though. Pitch is still being too quiet and Jack doesn't want to look at him. "I don't know what real belief feels like. But some kids see me now. Some of them tell stories about me and it's because you helped me. It's not the power you had, it's not the world believing in you. But you helped me get just a little bit of that. And you don't have any of that either now."

He does look up then and Pitch is...deflated. He's leaning back against the wall and seems to have forgotten about his hand trapped under the ice. Pitch is looking at Jack like he's something new and terrible that he can't take his eyes away from.

Jack makes himself look Pitch in the eyes, grips his staff tight in one shaking hand while he stares him down. "And it's because of stuff like this that you don't have that anymore. You keep trying for big things like this because you think you have to rule everything or have nothing! But they're just going to knock you down lower than you are now if you do this! Even if you did somehow get the power to beat them the Old Man would probably just make more like he's done before! You said it yourself! Every time you almost get your power back he just calls a new Guardian to go against you!"

Pitch looks away first, slowly letting out a tight sigh as he looks over at his pinned hand. Jack tenses as Pitch's shadows gather in and break the ice but Pitch only pulls away and carefully rubs the numbness away with his other hand while he frowns.

"You would have me do nothing then?" He finally says, still looking down at his hands. "I'm far past that Jack. You have your belief, however small, but imagine that being taken from you. Slow enough that you wouldn't notice at first but it doesn't end. It's a thin thread that's unraveling faster than you can keep track of. I'm close to the end of my thread and I…I fear oblivion if I don't do something to get it back quickly. I don't have the time to just hope things will become better." He looks up then, eyes hard, "Hope is not what I do."

Jack takes a hesitant step towards him, "I'm not saying you have to do nothing! But you said earlier, that you were willing to wait centuries to get enough Nightmares to try and steal all the teeth. Why can't you just…work with that time differently? You think you have to get it all back now but the world doesn't work on huge terrors anymore. They think different, people have less room for magic now. You can work on smaller stuff! Learn how people fear in the little things and work yourself into them! You've started doing that so keep going! There are already new stories about us. It's small and not what you had but it's something! And you can build on that! You don't have to take it all at once Pitch!"

Pitch's shoulders sag and he looks away again, absently rubbing his hands together still. "I don't know if I can do that, Jack."

"Let me help! I mean, I figured out that it was the small things that worked, not the screaming in faces." He gives a small, hesitant smile, "Maybe I could show you a few tricks."

Pitch's head jerks up to fix an odd stare on Jack and his hands clench. Jack can't even begin to read his expression, it's something stark and intense and hungry and torn. They both stay like that for a few tense heartbeats and Jack takes another careful step, stopping when Pitch takes a quick step back.

"Pitch, c'mon, I really think-" Pitch flinches like he's been struck and throws a hand up to silence him, looking away with a frown again. Jack grips his staff tight, feeling jittery and out of place in his own skin.  
He's not used to Pitch being this quiet, this unreadable and closed off. It's frustrating and makes Jack want to just throw something at him to make him react somehow.

He glowers and goes to take another step, but he's stopped by the rushing and screaming of Nightmares this time. They almost knock him from his feet as they rush past him to their master. Swirling around him into a dense cloud of shadow and it takes Jack a few seconds to realize what's going on. He nearly does actually throw his staff then.

"Hey! You can't just leave!" Pitch turns, gives Jack a long look over his shoulder, then grabs the mane of one of the Nightmares. The shadow moves in around him, whipping him away into the swarm. Before Jack can say anything they fly up into the air, dwindling away into a wisp of darkness while he stares in disbelief.

Jack stares up into where they vanished for several long moments in shock, mouth opening and closing as he tries to wrap his head around that nonsense.

"I can't believe he just did that!" He finally chucks his staff, wishing he had Pitch's head back here so he could bash it instead. "That stupid dramatic old moron!"

"Jack!" He jumps nearly a foot in the air and whips around, apparently he'd gotten distracted enough to forget to keep the wind going. Tooth is racing towards him, looking harried and clutching her sword. "Jack what did you do? Are you alright?"

"No!" He yells at first, before thinking about it, "I mean, yes! I'm fine! I don't know what I did ok?!" He storms over to his staff and snatches it up again, running is hands over the wood. He really doesn't want to talk to Toothiana, he wants to make a couple blizzards and maybe an ice storm. Preferably in some idiot's dark and dank hole of stupid.

"Jack, what happened here? Why did you-"

"Look!" He interrupts, "I don't want to talk right now ok? I mean, thanks for taking me here and I'm sorry for hitting you but you were all crazy with the sword! It was a lot of fun, except for the part where it really wasn't at all! That was probably the most-" He grabs at his hair, taking a deep breath and calming a little, "-exhausting thing I've been through actually. And I'm still not sure what happened. So yeah, thanks and all that. I gotta go."

"Jack!" She's angry now but the wind blocks her voice as he calls it to him. He wonders if he should say 'bye' but decides against it. Really he's done with talking for the next week at least. That was way too much talking. He never wanted to talk that much ever. Talking was supposed to be Pitch's thing.

The wind drowns out her demanding yelling as he soars up and away from the entire mess he and Pitch left.

There was no way he was going to let that idiot get away so easily.


	10. The Tooth Palace Incident: Final

((AN: So "Onyx" came from the fact that somewhere in the script it mentions that the Nightmare that Pitch always keeps around him and rides on is named Onyx. Which is such a delightfully stupid name that I fell in love with it because Pitch giving his favorite ponies dumb names is the best thing ever))

* * *

Pitch loses himself in rushing air and the whispers of the Nightmares. He sinks deep into the fear and anxiety they leave in their wake; feels the unease of others drown his own thoughts out. The journey back home is far more peaceful this way.

He's absorbed by fear, listening to the secrets his beauties tells him as they slide along shadow into the winding tunnels that lead home. The herd is restless, caught up in the excitement and high emotion of the day and they swarm around him in an excited cloud as they emerge into the expansive caverns. He lets them brush against his hands and murmur voiceless in his ear, though he keeps one hand firmly on the largest mare.

He doesn't like to say that he picks favorites, but Onyx was always...special to him.

Eventually the others disperse to find their victims but he keeps Onyx close, buries his fingers into the shifting spines of the war horse's mane and focuses on her special brand of fear. She always created the most subtle and beautiful horrors. Hers are the soft sighs of the night and quiet fears that keep mortals awake and wide-eyed in terror of something they can never explain. If he listens to them then he can drown everything else out, he can ignore the thoughts clamoring about in his head.

There is, however, a price for his attachment. She knows his fear far, far more deeply and intimately than anything else. The others see his terrors, his sharp sudden stabs of anxiety. But she sees the deeper scars. Onyx has always been able to find the one thread that would undo him and pull it just so.

So it's only a matter of time until she snorts and shifts, twisting her neck to look at him. As soon as her eyes fix on him Jack's words are piling up in his mind.

He sucks in a sharp breath, fingers digging into her neck. His insides are being wrenched and twisted and he wants to pull away, wants to cover his ears and deny the words that keep echoing without end-

Every time someone walks through me it's like they've punched through and left me hollow and everything is hot and empty because they took it all with them!

His breath catches and his lungs seize up and he doesn't want to hear this he can't hear this not again-

And you keep trying...you keep trying as hard as you can to make them see you. Even if it never works you can't stop trying.

"Stop..." He croaks out, feeling his fingers begin to shake.

They smile or laugh or keep doing whatever they were doing while you try to figure out where your lungs went and try to get your heart to start beating again.

He does cover his ears then, fingers clenching into his hair as he hunches over Onyx's neck. He has to block it has to make it STOP. It's too much, too much too much he can't listen to Jack ripping out his every fear and vulnerable terror again it's too much-

You saw me though.

But Jack hadn't been laying out Pitch's fears. There were his own.

I didn't get why you let me follow you around all the time.

Jack had been a distraction! Something to bide the time with and talk at but he knew he KNEW.

I got it when I saw someone walk through you and your face looked the same way I always felt.

Pitch feels like everything between his ribs is being slowly dragged out, twisted and yanked until nothing is left and Jack knows he knows what that is.

Pitch had always known that Jack was lonely, that Jack wasn't believed in. But he figured such a young thing wouldn't understand the crushing desperation that comes from real loneliness.

Jack was young and bright and too full of laughter and he shouldn't be able to feel the same way Pitch did. He COULDN'T know what that felt like!

-the same way I always felt...

"It doesn't matter!" He finally snarls. "He's gone! And it's for the best! He's certainly not showing his face again after all of that! And I'm glad!" He snaps when Onyx simply keeps her brilliant eyes on him. "I can't- I can't have that around!"

His hands slowly drop from his head, going back to Onyx's thick neck and he spreads his fingers over the corded sand and shadow, his voice going softer. "It'd be too much. It's better...better if he is gone. I'm made to be on my own. It's enough, just knowing that someone else is feeling this. I don't want it magnified by him being here."

He lets out a long, low breath, the tightness in him melting away with it and leaving him feeling loose and worn and empty. "He's gone, and it's far better this way." He says, listening hard to how the words sound so he can remember them.

"Far better." He repeats.

He rolls his shoulders, squares them to keep going as he always has. Soon this will be a memory, one of many that-

There's a brush of cold on the back of his neck.

He sucks in cold air and feels everything tighten up again. Jack wouldn't come back. It didn't matter what he had said he wouldn't come back after-

"What is wrong with you?! Did you just wake up today and go 'I think this is a day for making stupid decisions'?! You can't just LEAVE! How old are you again?"

He turns slowly, feeling coiled and tense and Jack is there. He's glaring and clutching his staff in a white knuckled fist. The air is crackling with his anger, but he's right there.

Pitch's hands clench and unclench at his sides; he's suddenly unsure what to do with them. There's too much energy thrumming through him and it's paralyzing even though he feels jittery all over. He can only follow Jack with his eyes as the boy begins pacing in front of him.

"I mean, that wasn't easy back there ok? And you just took off! Yeah great thanks for not stealing anything but you seriously just decided that the best way to end a conversation was to leave?! This is you! You're really good at the talking! So why all this sulking silence and-" Jack stops and throws his hands up in exasperation, "What now!? What is with that face?!"

Pitch blinks, he hadn't been aware that his face was doing anything in particular. He gets the feeling he should answer quickly if he doesn't want to make Jack more angry.

And why should he care if this child is angry at him?

"You came back." He says, then mentally kicks himself. Of course he's back, he's right there! "I meant...why did you come back?"

"Did you not want me to?"

Pitch opens his mouth to say 'yes' then shuts it. That...is a dangerous question.

There's something vulnerable in Jack's eyes as he stares at Pitch expectantly, a longing that's hard to look away from.

"I don't know." He says quietly. "I thought I didn't, but I am...not sure now."

Jack barks out a tired, worn laugh and runs a hand over his face. Pitch doesn't like that laugh, it doesn't suit Jack. "Yeah, well, that makes two of us I guess. You're ridiculous you know that?"

"But you came back." Pitch is still having trouble processing that. There's no reason for Jack to come back and nothing is explaining it.

Jack looks up at him for a few seconds, then gives a small, tentative smile like he had back at the Tooth Palace. "Yeah, I did."

Pitch's skin feels too tight for his body, the air is thin and cold and that doesn't explain anything it doesn't explain why Jack is HERE. He's standing there small and slight and nothing but elbows and knees and a determined stare hiding underneath a small easy smile.

How had Pitch never noticed how small the boy was? Jack is such a tiny thing but somehow he's taking up the entire world right now and refuses to leave.

His hands feel tense again and he can't stop them from clenching and unclenching in quick spasms. He should say something, but for once he has no idea what to say to this. It's like he'd never actually SEEN Jack in all the years the boy has been hovering around him.

There's the tight grip on his staff, the way his fingers will shift and turn white as he waits nervously for Pitch to do something besides stare. There's the small curl of his mouth full of hope and just a touch of fear and who shows fear in a smile? Fear of rejection fear of being cast out fear of being alone all in the lift of the corners of small lips and the tired smudges underneath wide blue eyes.

It's too much. All of it is too much. Those eyes and that smile are more than Pitch can tolerate right now. Jack is more than he can tolerate. Pitch doesn't know how much more he can stand it, seeing all of his own fears and hurt shining out of that smile and captured in gripping hands and tired, lonely blue eyes.

His hands itch at his sides, he wants to reach out and- and do SOMETHING. He wants to shake Jack, throw him. Grab those thin and tiny shoulders and demand to know where Jack came from, where he got the GALL to trap Pitch's pain in his own eyes.

He needs to leave. He needs to get away from that smile. He steps back and phases into the shadow, ignoring Jacks startled yell of "Oh come on!"

Something about losing physical form calms him, dulls the sharp panic in his chest and makes his head feel more clear. "I need to think." He says, congratulating himself on how calm and even he sounds. "You are welcome to stay in the meantime, if you wish."

Jack looks incredulous. "Oh! That's good to know! Thank you ever so much! And where the hell are you running off to this time?"

He doesn't dignify that with an answer, instead he sinks deeper into the shadows until he's far away from that small and demanding presence. He doesn't step back out onto solid stone until he can't feel the cold that follows Jack everywhere.

He's in a dark desolate pit in his home. This is the place where the deeper Nightmares dwell. It's full of hissing and the distant sound of something sliding over water and stone. It's inky black and the air reeks of distant horrors beyond the world and it's perfect.

He stays there for two weeks.

He wouldn't say he was avoiding Jack per se, he just needs to...think things through on his own. Needs to prepare himself for that ice blue stare again.

Jack isn't there when he comes back up to the central cavern. Pitch feels both elated and strangely empty when he realizes the boy is absent. There's a weight lifted from his shoulders but he still finds himself wandering around looking for something.

The odd conflict ends quickly when a breeze announces Jack's return.

He swoops in from the tunnels in a rush of laughter and snow and wind, elated still from whatever he had been getting up to on the surface. The crawling feeling comes back and only escalates when Jack notices him and gives him a wave with raised eyebrows.

Pitch raises his own hand absently, watching to see if he can spot the pain in Jacks face that had been there earlier. There's a strange anticipation as he keeps his eyes on Jack, both dreading and looking for that glimpse of emptiness.

He steps back into shadows as Jack lands, he may be willing to watch Jack, but the idea of talking to him again makes his skin crawl.

Jack simply blinks, then shakes his head with an irritated huff as he flies up to perch on one of the cages.

It had been there, for just a second the spark in his eyes had dimmed just enough for Pitch to see the loneliness there.

Pitch spends a whole new week just watching for glimpses of that blank hollowness. It's unnerving, seeing himself in something as bright as Jack. He stays in the shadows, stays out of sight while he follows the boy whenever he's in the lair.

Jack is always doing something when he's not out; covering stone archways with decorative frost patterns, chasing nightmares, and, on a few strange occasions, talking into the air as if Pitch is next to him.

"I had another kid see me today."

Jack is sitting on one of the larger cages again, while Pitch stays in the shadow underneath. It's fascinating, hearing him talk to nothing at all.

"Apparently his mom had told him stories about me. Said he needs to wear his scarf or Jack Frost would nip his nose off." He laughs at that, a short, cheery noise that is completely out of place in the dark. "He was in a panic at first! Really thought I was going to take his nose! I was tempted to make a few grabs for it, I dunno, maybe you can give him some nightmares about that later."

Pitch snorts to himself at that, as if he would personally make such a trivial nightmare. He goes quiet again when Jack continues.

"There's a few more of them every winter you know. I mean, just one or two. And no one can decide if I'm a lovable fun loving spirit or some horrible trickster." There's another laugh at that. "I don't see why I can't be both!"

Both do fit the boy well.

"I just...you're still pretty stupid. And I don't know what has been with you lately. But...thanks. You know what for."

Pitch steps out from the shadows onto the cage, not really knowing why. There are a lot of things he doesn't know lately. He doesn't know why the sight of this small frail thing makes his hands claw at his sides and makes him want to tear out of his own skin. He doesn't know how he never saw how often the boy looks like he can barely stand from the crushing loneliness that still clings to him, despite the slowly growing pool of belief.

He doesn't know why he still has the golden box with Jack's name on it. Doesn't know why he keeps pulling it out to run his fingers over the engraving as if it'll give up it's secrets with a touch. When he isn't holding it the box is a constant weight against his side, burning cold against him wherever he goes.

He doesn't know why Jack keeps coming back every day.

"Why are you still here?"

Jack starts so hard that he nearly falls off the cage. He grasps the bars beneath him and whips his head around until he sees where Pitch is standing by the heavy chain that holds it up. The boy's eyes light up instantly.

"Hey! There you are!"

"Why. Are you. Still here?" Pitch repeats carefully. He needs Jack to understand how important this is.

Jack's smile fades, eyes dimming and his expression closing off. "Do...you want me to leave?"

Yes. No. Don't ask that.

"That wasn't what I was asking." Is what Pitch settles on. "I want to know why you keep coming back here."

Jack's eyes slide away and he plays with the edge of his cloak. "I wonder that sometimes." He admits slowly. "I guess..." he shrugs, looking back at Pitch with that empty look, "I guess I don't really have anything else."

Niether of us do. Pitch thinks.

And the clawing is back, the near panic welling up in his chest and the air is too cold and too sharp in his lungs. He steps back into shadow, needing to get away from Jack before...he doesn't know what.

He's tired of not knowing things.

But he does know now that Jack needs to leave.

Pitch still can't look at the boy without the air leaving him and his hands tensing and tightening. It hasn't gotten any better, if anything Pitch is seeing more and more of that aching in Jack's eyes that he knows too well.

He doesn't like facing his own loneliness and he certainly doesn't want to keep seeing it reflected in the boy.

So Jack needs to leave. Needs to stop tormenting Pitch with that mix of a bright smile and tired eyes. And it shouldn't be hard, all he has to do is TELL Jack to leave.

Which seems to be easier said than done. Whenever he tries the words choke up in his throat and catch on each other. Leaving him babbling through something else and hurrying away, ignoring the confused furrow to Jacks brow.

He needs to give Jack a reason to leave.

It only takes him a few days to find a solution. Really he should have thought of this weeks ago.

The box is heavy and cold as he slowly pulls it out.

Jack's memories.

I guess I don't really have anything else.

This would be something. If Jack knew who he had been he would perhaps find his purpose. He'd have that and he would leave Pitch alone.

Things could go...back to how they were.

He clenches his fingers on the box, forcing down the slight tremor in his hands as he goes to find Jack. There's no reason for him to keep this little trinket anyway. Such a sentimental thing is useless to him.

Jack is splayed out on the thick stone rail of one of the bridges this time, twirling his staff idly as one leg hangs swinging over the edge. He looks very much at home where he is.

He needs to leave.

"Jack."

Jack doesn't jump this time, just turns his head slightly towards Pitch and raises his eyebrows.

"Well look who it is! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I felt..." Pitch pauses, he's not really sure how to bring this up so out of the blue. "You should know that I did not come away from the Tooth Palace completely empty handed."

Jack stops twirling his staff and sits up carefully. "Okay..." He says, giving Pitch an odd look, "and you're telling me this because...?"

Pitch turns the box awkwardly in his hands. "You...I found this. It's yours."

Jack freezes, almost literally, the stone under him frosting over as his eyes harden. "No it isn't."

"I can assure you that it is."

"You said those things were memories. Human memories. I came from a lake remember? I don't have one of those things. Can't lose your childhood teeth if you were never a child, Pitch."

Pitch frowns and slowly turns the box so the name is facing Jack. "You were someone else. You may not be human now but at one point...you had something."

Jack is still and quiet as he stares at the name. He looks like he's been punched through and left broken. His whole body shakes as he slowly stands and takes a careful step forward, eyes on the simple engraving.

"That...that's my name. I...how?"

Pitch doesn't say anything, gripping the box to keep himself centered. Jack's eyes are shining and he isn't quite at tears but it's so close. There's a sharp spike of fear in the air that leaves Pitch feeling like he's drowning.

Jack puts a hand out so, so slowly, and Pitch can see how his fingers are trembling.

"I...I had a family? I had a home?"

Pitch has to fight the urge to pull the box out of Jack's reach. "I don't know. You were just someone before you were this. Most of our kind were someone before being called to what we are now."

Jack pauses then, looking up at him. "You said you didn't have any memories either."

"I'm an exception. Fear simply is. I was here before anything else and always will be."

"How do you know? Maybe you were-"

"I wasn't anything!" Pitch snaps, shoving the box a little bit towards Jack. "But you were!"

Jacks eyes dart from Pitch back to the box and he reaches for it haltingly. He gasps like he's physically hurt when he finally touches it and Pitch yanks his hands away as soon as he's sure Jack has a grip on it.

He then takes several steps back, needing to put some distance between himself and the still shivering boy.

"You should be able to open it, though I couldn't tell you how. You'll have to figure that part out on your own."

"Yeah." Jack says distantly, running his hands over the edges and contours of the small golden container. "Yeah...okay...I'm...I'm going to just...go and..."

Leave. Pitch thinks. Go and leave. Stop haunting me.

Jack looks up at him, eyes wide and shining. He looks impossibly small and fragile as he clutches the box to his chest. "Pitch, I just, thanks. You didn't have to...I don't know why you keep-"

"Go." Pitch grits out. His hands feel empty without the box to clutch onto and he can feel the space where it used to lay within his robe.

Jack nods, a quick jerk of his head then pauses for only a few more minutes. It looks like he wants to say something more and Pitch can only sigh in relief when he turns and flies out instead. Jack rushes away with a blast of cold air and a flurry of tiny snowflakes.

And that's that.

Pitch stands there for a while afterwards, watching the tunnels and feeling the air grow warm. He feels lighter, yet hollowed out.

"It certainly has been...interesting." He says to the air. Jack had at least made the past few decades less boring. The memories would be pleasant and he wouldn't have to see that pain in Jack's smile anymore.

It was enough, knowing that that pain existed in someone else without having it right in front of him.

"Farewell, Jack Frost." He says quietly, turning back to the shadows and ignoring the yellow brimstone eyes watching him from the darkness.

This is for the best.

An hour later and he's wandering the shadows aimlessly, firmly not thinking about anything.

After two hours he feels the same crawling feeling begin to return. It's something like paranoia, the sick twisting in him. It's not as bad as when Jack was here though, so he ignores it.

Three hours since Jack left and it's gotten worse.

It takes four hours for him to start having second thoughts. The air is still and warm and he doesn't recall it ever feeling so thick and oppressive. He's jumping at every sound that echos through the stone arches and wide caverns. Even the clank of the cages as they settle on their chains has him looking up, half expecting to see snowflakes or a shock of white hair.

The place where the box used to rest within his robe burns and Pitch keeps putting his hand there when he's not paying attention. He should have found another way to get Jack to leave. The boy is gone and Pitch doesn't have anything left of him. Even the frost that Jack left on the bridge has melted into a puddle that's rapidly drying.

After five hours Pitch begins pacing. The nervous energy is back, only it's undirected and manic now. He can't stop his fingers from tapping against each other as he walks back and forth around his globe.

In the past he'd had to chase Jack off of the sphere numerous times. The boy never really respected what the globe meant. Though there hadn't been much that Jack respected in general.

There's a flash of yellow and he's pulled from his thoughts when he sees Onyx watching him through the globe, eyes burning.

"Shut up." He growls. She snorts and tosses her head and walks around to butt his shoulder.

Six hours.

He's had enough of skulking about down here. Too long sitting with his own thoughts and oppressive silence. He continues watching the world turn as he runs a hand over Onyx's shoulder.

"Let's ride tonight. It's been far too long since I've accompanied you my dear." He gets another snort at that and smiles slightly as he strokes her nose.

"Go on, I'll meet you up there. And gather the others." He grins, slow and predatory, "We're going to make it a rough night."

She tosses her head, rears and rushes off in a wild scream of writhing shadow. He watches her go with a fond smile and begins heading towards the tunnels.

This is what he needs. A night of doing what he does best, feeling the rush of terror in the air and if they find the right mind to dig into, perhaps it will almost be like the old days.

He pools into the shadows, sliding along the dripping tunnels and smiling at the distant shrieks of the gathering Nightmares.

It will be alright.

Jack may be gone, but Pitch will continue as he always has.

He takes a moment to hiss softly at the bright and full moon when he slides out from under the broken and withered bedframe. His old friend simply shines down, watching as always, the old fool. Pitch is so caught up glaring at him that he almost falls over when he finally turns and-

Jack.

Jack is there.

Jack is perched up on one of the bed posts, staff leaning next to him while he crouches like a gargoyle, elbows on his knees and looking intently at the little box.

Jack is...he's there. He shouldn't be there.

Just like that all the air leaves Pitch's lungs again and he feels like he should say something but Jack is THERE. All his words are tangling over each other and leaving him with his mouth open grasping at something to say.

He had been so sure that Jack would leave after getting his memories that he never prepared himself for any alternative.

"Hey..." Jack says softly, without looking up. "Surprised you're out and about with the Old Man at full blast."

Pitch swallows past the panic welling up in his throat and steps up to stand next to the boy, looking down at the box in his hand.

"Have you..?"

"Yeah." Jack says, and Pitch can see just the edge of a small, tired smile. He suddenly wants to make Jack look up so he can see all of it. From here he can just see the hints of pain and sorrow and joy caught in it and wants to know how the boy can say so much with a smile. He's shaken from his thoughts when Jack continues.

"I had a sister..." His voice is strangely hoarse, with an echo of what could be a laugh hiding under it. "Well, I had the rest of a family too. A mom and everything...but all the best memories were of my sister."

Jack does look up at him then, and Pitch takes back his earlier thoughts about wanting to see that smile. It's quavering and blinding and the light is catching wetness right at the corner of Jacks eyes. Pitch has to look away from that as Jack goes on.

"I saved her!" His voice gets a distant wonder to it, like he's still riding the adrenaline rush from the memory. "That's how...she was so scared and I saved her...I'm glad that was the last thing I did. Though I guess you wouldn't really get that." Jack laughs at that. "Sorry for making someone less scared."

"You're still here."

Jack doesn't look closed off and hurt like he had before when Pitch asked why he was here. Pitch doesn't quite know what Jack's face means, but it's calm and considering.

"Do you want me to leave?"

That question again. That very dangerous question that Pitch was sure he already answered. Jack says it more surely now. It isn't a quiet, nervous and scared anymore. Now Jack's stare is a challenge.

Pitch meets it, feels like he won't be able to breathe ever again.

"No."

Jack nods, then grins brightly at him. "Alright then. You're stuck with me now!"

Pitch barely manages to stomp down the nearly hysterical laugh he feels building up.

You don't know what you've done. You've doomed us you foolish boy!

Pitch's lungs are on fire and he sucks air deep through his nose, barely managing to keep calm on the surface despite the maelstrom within him.

You should have left while you had the chance. You can't now. I can't let you. Not after this. You can't leave. And it's too late now. Too late for both of us.

He clenches his hands tight behind his back, feeling raw and exposed and like he just sealed his own end.

Jack keeps smiling brilliant and blinding and Pitch can only think...

Mine.


	11. Target Practice

In which the boys learn how to bond at the expense of others, and Pitch does something VERY surprising.

(Takes place about a year after The Tooth Palace Incident)

* * *

It's not Jacks usual sort of night. The sky is perfectly clear and he prefers heavy clouds that make snowstorms easy. The less work he has to put into snow then the more time he can have playing with it.

But the air is cold and crisp and sharp and the sky is full of stars. It's not his usual sort of night, but it's a perfect night to perch on a roof and watch the way all the burning torches and candles the humans use reflect the stars above them.

"I'm sure this is the longest I've seen you sitting still in one place. Did you actually manage to finally turn yourself into ice?"

Jack nearly falls off the roof as he flails and has to quickly snatch his staff when it nearly goes flying into the streets below. He REALLY should be used to this nonsense by now. How does Pitch keep DOING that?

"How do you keep doing that!? I nearly had a heart attack!" He turns to look at where Pitch is standing calmly a few steps behind him. "You did that on purpose!"

Pitch looks far too pleased with himself. Smug asshole. "I really have no idea what you're talking about Jack. You simply don't pay attention to what's going on. Ever."

Jack snorts and rolls his eyes, feeling a grin beginning to grow in spite of himself. "Yeah sure ok, point is you're an ass. A huge one. What are you doing here anyway?"

He can see Pitch coming up from the corner of his eye and blinks when the tall figure folds to sit next to him. Pitch looks oddly out of place with his endless spindly legs folded up under him, sitting on a roof like it's something he does every night.

"It's not a good night for Nightmares." Pitch says with a shrug. "Clear nights like this, the humans are far too caught up in their dreams of heavens and stars. There are a few dark visions, but not any that warrant my special attention."

It's not really an answer but Jack will take what he can get. At least Pitch is talking to him now. It's been over a year since what Jack has dubbed "The Tooth Palace Incident" and Pitch is still...weird.

He isn't outright avoiding Jack anymore, but he'll have these...moments. Right when Jack thinks everything is ok Pitch will go still and quiet and all...looking weird at him.

And there are times when Jack can feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he'll find Pitch staring at him like he was an especially difficult puzzle. During those times Jack really feels like that gaze is carefully pulling him open and peering inside. It's both unnerving and...almost exhilarating. Which is something he doesn't want to look into too much.

So he will happily take this calmer Pitch who isn't avoiding him or mentally dissecting him.

Though he can't help but stare in mild fascination as Pitch leans back on his hands and stretches his long legs out. It's such a...normal pose and Pitch, who is so far from normal that it's almost hilarious, settles into it with his usual lanky grace as if it's perfectly natural.

Pitch notices his stare and raises his brows. "What?"

"It's just...I'm not used to seeing you all relaxed. You're always stalking around and looming everywhere. I thought that was all you did."

Pitch gives him a flat, then slides his gaze back out to the city with a small smirk. "Ah, well, my legs get tired. I can't keep that up forever, you can't hold the occasional break against me. I assure you I'll go back to looming as usual soon enough."

"Oh that's good to know, because this is almost scarier than your shadow lurking."

"I just get a crick in my neck, looking so far down whenever I try to talk to you. It's much easier down here."

Jack's mouth falls open. What? What!?

"What!?" He yells. "I'm not short! You're just a friggin pine tree!"

"A pine tree." Pitch says flatly. He doesn't look as offended as he should be.

"You know what I mean you asshole!" Pitch is simply sitting there, looking at Jack with the most irritating condescending smile. "And stop that!"

"Stop what? I didn't say anything. Do go on though, this is very entertaining. Is this you being clever, Jack?"

"Just. Shut up!" Jack makes to smack that smug grin right off Pitch's face and very nearly manages it.

Unfortunately he had not accounted for Pitch, who blocks his swing easily with one hand then just as easily yanks the staff out of his grip. Jack can only sit there making a strangled shocked noise because WHERE is this all coming from?

Pitch looks even more smug and Jack lunges for it. Yelling wordlessly as he flings himself at his staff.

And ends up with a face full of roof when Pitch simply vanishes in a whirl of shadows and reappears standing a few feet away.

With Jack's staff in his hand and a wide grin on his face.

"Oh nice." Jack mutters, pushing himself up. "Yes we're all very impressed. Look at you with all your vanishing about."

"Look at you lying uselessly on the roof." Pitch retorts.

"Hah. Hahaha. You're so funny. Give it back."

Pitch makes a show of considering it, spinning Jack's staff in his fingers. "Hmmm. No. I don't think I will."

"Oh come on!"

"I don't see why I should give it back if you're going to just try and hit me with it."

"Oh I'm gonna do more than try." Jack says darkly as he stands up, angrily brushing dirt off his cloak.

"Yes you're definitely convincing me." Pitch says, still grinning. And seriously, what is WITH him?

It takes Jack a few seconds to finally put it together.

This is Pitch being playful. He's in a honest to God good mood.

Jack almost wishes he'd go back to the sulking and lurking if this is what he's like when he's feeling chipper.

He feels the grin coming back though, slow and wide. "Tell you what." He says, "I won't hit you if you cut it out with the short jokes."

Pitch raises both brows at that, looking perfectly haughty,but Jack can see the corners of his mouth twitching. "I can promise no such thing."

"Then I may try to hit you again."

"Hmm. We appear to be at an impasse."

"Truce?"  
Pitch takes longer than necessary 'considering' it before he nods imperiously and holds the staff out. "For now."

Jack snatches the staff back, giving Pitch a slight tap on the forehead as soon as it's in his hands. He leaps back when Pitch makes a halfhearted swipe for it and doesn't even try to hold in his laughter.

He crouches at the top of the roof, still chuckling while Pitch smirks. This is...nice. It almost feels like things could start getting back to how it was before the Tooth Palace, if not better than before.

He looks back out over the city, grinning widely and enjoying the peaceful feel to the silence that falls over them.

Of course it's then that the hairs on the back of his neck start to stand up, which means that Pitch is doing the "I'm trying to look inside your head" stare again.

And things had been going so well.

Jack sighs and stubbornly ignores the creeping feeling going up his spine. He doesn't know what Pitch's deal is, but he's not going to let it ruin his fun.

A flash of color in the distance catches his eye and he blinks, then squints to try and get a better look.

"And there are the fairies, I was wondering when the pests would show up."

Jack nearly goes falling off the roof again because Pitch is RIGHT behind him. He is really going to die of a heart attack one of these days.

He shoots Pitch a glare and Pitch blinks at him in perfectly innocent confusion. Bastard.

At least he' not doing that freaky look anymore. Jack thinks as he watches the fairies. There must be hundreds of them zipping through the city, filling the air with their bright and excited chirps and squeaks.

"You know, I USED to think those things were cute." He says.

Pitch snorts. "They've always been obnoxious pests if you ask me. And unnecessarily noisy. So what changed your mind about them?"

"Probably happened when one tried to peck my eyes out."

Pitch looks down at him in surprise. "When was THIS? They're annoying but not outright aggressive! What did you do to it?"

"I mayyyyy have grabbed at it. I needed to ask it where-" He stops suddenly, the words dying in his throat when he remembers WHAT he was going to ask the fairy.

Pitch goes still and Jack can feel the sudden tension in the air.

He shifts nervously while Pitch becomes completely fascinated with something out in the distance.

"Well, I really don't like them anymore is what I'm saying."

Pitch gives a noncommittal "hmm" and keeps his eyes firmly on the horizon.

That got awkward fast... Jack scowls out at the flashes of color as if this is specifically their fault.

He spends a few minutes glaring out at them before the idea strikes.

"You know..." He says thoughtfully, holding out his hand and forming a tightly packed ball of snow. He grins and tosses it up and down a few times as he considers the swarms of fairies. "I need to work on hitting moving targets."

He chances a glance and sees that Pitch is watching him from the corner of his eye, looking interested. Jack grins wider and raises his eyebrows and Pitch's mouth twitches.

"Those things are smaller than your snowball, you couldn't possibly hit one from here."

"Was that a challenge, McBroody?"

"That was a fact."

Jack's grin grows bigger and he rolls his shoulder, getting his arm ready. "You're gonna eat your words Mr. Boogeyman!"

Three hours later and he still hasn't hit a fairy, though it's gotten close a few times! Close enough that the little things are now moving much more carefully between buildings and constantly looking around in agitation. Which is making them more difficult targets.

On the upside, Pitch is no longer brooding, scowling, or making weird faces at Jack.

"There! There's another one over there!" Jack is grabbed and spun around so quickly that he almost gets whiplash. He reorients himself while Pitch points excitedly over his shoulder with one hand.

And keeps the other hand on Jack's other shoulder, which is getting distracting.

"Would you stop yanking me around!? I'm getting dizzy!"

"Shut up it'll get away!"

"Alright alright!" Jack can't stop smiling as he catches sight of the fairy. There have been fewer and fewer as the night wears on, and both of them may be getting a little too into this game. Though admittedly, Pitch is a lot more into it than Jack had expected. "What are you so excited for anyway?"

Pitch is almost buzzing with energy and puts both hands on Jack's shoulders now. Everything gets a bit…fuzzy around the edges at that. Jack still isn't used to touching, and Pitch's hands are like two brands even through the cloak, vest, AND shirt.

Jack feels like he's completely surrounded. Pitch is looming over him looking out over the city and his heat is everywhere. There are large hands completely covering Jack's shoulder and warmth radiating over his back. Jack makes himself breathe slow and even, though the air feels warmer in his lungs.

Of course Pitch seems entirely unaware of what he's doing and drums his fingers excitedly. "The little idiots haven't figured out where the snowballs are coming from!" He cackles, "They're all paranoid to the point of near panic!"

Jack shakes himself, pulling his attention away from how overwhelmingly CLOSE Pitch is. The guy never did have concept of personal boundaries, Jack just needs to get used to it. He makes himself relax and feels the smile returning.

"Heh, Nice. Let's see if I can up the paranoia a little bit huh?"

He takes careful aim at where the fairy is darting around a window. He's finally got a good lock on where she's buzzing when Pitch leans downcloser by his ear.

"Alright now, remember, aim in FRONT of the little bug and remember that there IS a breeze out here."

Jack stammers for a second, feeling himself growing colder even as the heat presses in on him. He can actually hear Pitch breathing he's so close. Luckily everything Pitch is saying is absurd enough for Jack to latch onto that instead.

"Look I think you can give me advice when you actually throw a snowball yourself."

He feels the puff of air when Pitch snorts. "And you can disregard my advice when you actually manage to hit something."

Jack grumbles and gets his sights back on the fairy, which is difficult when all he can think of is the fact that Pitch is practically plastered to his back.

"Ok seriously take like, five steps back. I can't even bring my arm back for a swing without smacking you in the face, as appealing as that sounds.."

There's another irritated huff on his face, but Pitch lets go and steps back and Jack tries not to be too obvious when he sucks in refreshingly cold air.

With that distraction out of the way, he carefully aims how HE wants to, and throws.

There's a tense moment of silence as they watch the snowball fly through the air.

Then there's the distant sound of a wet thud followed by an enraged squeal.

"I GOT IT!" Jack crows.

"Did you see that things FACE?" Pitch wheezes through his laughter.

"Oh my god it fell like a rock! I think it actually went INTO the snowball!" Jack has to lean on his staff to keep from falling over he's laughing so hard. It really wasn't his most stellar prank but he honestly can't remember the last time he laughed so hard that his sides were hurting.

He finally flops down to sit on the roof again, gasping for air between bursts of laughter. There's a movement next to him and he barely registers through his giggles when Pitch sits down next to him.

"Oh my god, my stomach hurts. That wasn't even that funny but I can't stop laughing!"

Pitch has calmed down and is quiet again, though Jack is still chuckling to himself. He feels all bubbly and floaty, he's done things that were more fun, but never WITH someone.

"Jack."

Jack looks out over the town, scanning for another fairy and can't keep the grin off his face. "Huh? What?"

He gives a violent start for the third time that night when a warm hand comes up to rest on the side of his face.. Several thoughts run through his head at once; including the fact that Pitch's hand is almost big enough to cover the side of his head, and that it's so warm that he feels like his skin is melting on contact.

Though his main thought is "What?" as the hand turns his face and oh-

What?

Pitch is doing that weird stare again only this time it's really close and it looks way, way more intense from here. His eyes are gleaming gold and silver in the sparse light and they keep flicking up and down before catching Jack's eyes and holding them. It's the same dissecting stare as before, only now it looks determined.

Jack's lungs seize up, he has no idea what Pitch is doing or what is going through that weird head of his but he's trapped by that stare. He feels like he should ask what the hell is going on, or what Pitch's problem is. Or several other things that should be asked. But he can't really think of what they are because Pitch is close, really close. Way too close/

And then he's getting closer, which feels like it should be impossible because he's already too close and Jack can hear the sharp intake of breath and feel fingers tense against the side of his face and what is going on what is Pitch-

There are lips on his, a soft press that's at odds with the way Pitch's fingers are digging into his skin. And they're so, so much warmer than the rest of Pitch. He can't breathe and still doesn't know what's happening because Pitch's lips are on his and this is so far from what he was expecting from that stare.

It lasts a second, or it lasts a whole day, Jack can't really tell but it's both too soon and not soon enough when Pitch pulls back slowly. As soon as he's free Jack gulps down air like he was drowning all over again. The air is too warm but feels freezing against his lips after that heat and he can only gasp while staring up at Pitch in shock.

Pitch stares back looking just as surprised. And no. He doesn't get to do that! He can't look like that after. After...

A kiss. That was a kiss. Pitch just KISSED him. Since when does Pitch do anything like kissing?!

Pitch is still staring at Jack wide-eyed and shocked, like he's not quite sure how Jack got there. Even though he's the one keeping Jack there with a hand on his cheek. And ok, no that is ridiculous! Pitch can't look surprised at his OWN kiss.

Jack's trying to remember the right words to TELL Pitch this when a second hand grabs the other side of his head and all thought processes go flying out the window as he's yanked back in.

There's nothing soft and hesitant now, there's searing heat on his mouth and lips moving against his with a purpose. He flails and ends up clutching at the front of Pitch's robe to keep from falling over while his lips are bruised against his teeth.

Pitch has an iron grip on his face and uses it to tilt Jacks head just slightly, somehow pressing further into the kiss while crowding up into Jack's space.

Everything is burning, though Jack can feel his insides twisting and growing colder. It's like the world zeroes in on the mouth pressing onto him and the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears. He tries sucking in air through his nose but can't get enough no matter how deeply he tries to inhale. There's a faint fluttering like the beginnings of panic rising up as he tries desperately to fill his lungs.

Pitch makes a soft sound almost like a growl and digs his fingers into Jacks hair, gripping and somehow pulling him in tighter. Teeth scrape sharp and sudden against Jack's lips, lighting everything like white fire and Jack's mouth opens automatically with a gasp.

Everything gets much worse and much better because within seconds Pitch's tongue is in his mouth. It's molten as it slides over every available surface and Jack's whole body feels raw from it. His hands are shaking from gripping onto Pitch's robe so hard and every slide of that scorching tongue against his sends a shudder running down his spine.

He thinks he should do something. Actually, he's pretty sure he should do something. Though thinking of what that something is becomes more and more difficult with every slow drag in his mouth and every nick of teeth on his lips. He can't do anything but sit there and shake while Pitch takes him apart.

He still can't comprehend what's happening. Still has no idea where this is coming from or how Pitch is even capable of this. But he definitely doesn't want it to stop.

Jack's eyes slide shut and he hesitantly presses back. He's really not sure what he's supposed to be doing here. Whenever he saw humans kissing it never looked anywhere near as intense as this. So he falls onto instinct and leans towards Pitch, relaxing into him and shakily pressing his tongue against the one invading his mouth.

At first he thinks he has to be doing something wrong, because Pitch goes rigid and stops entirely for a heartbeat. Then he makes a low, guttural sound that vibrates through Jack's body and dives back into the kiss with a renewed desperation.

It's almost too much again. Pitch's hands let go of his head but slide down over his neck, down his back, up his sides and clutch at his arms and shoulders and waist. Jack squirms and stops trying to keep track of where Pitch is grabbing at him and bruising him with long spindly fingers. One arm finally wraps around his middle and hauls him up flush against Pitch's front while the other hand runs up and down his back.

He feels like he's being devoured, and really should be more scared by that than he is. Pitch is inhaling him and pushing into him and drawing him in further with each stroke of his tongue. Jack is surrounded and smothered by Pitch and still presses in for more, wrapping his arms up and around Pitch's neck to try and pull him in closer. He's practically in Pitch's lap and Pitch is literally inside his mouth but it doesn't feel close enough.

He can't tell where he begins and where Pitch ends or what feels hot or cold anymore. It's not enough but it's far beyond too much and Jack finally has to pull back and gasp for air like a dying man. He's pretty sure his lips are about to fall off and he feels like he's been flayed alive in the best way possible.

Which doesn't make any sense but he's too frazzled to try and think it through. Thinking is overrated. And kissing is underrated. If that is what kissing is then he suddenly understands the preoccupation humans have with it. Really he doesn't understand why they don't do that all the time!

Pitch's breathing is ragged and his fingers are digging into Jack like he might try to escape. He looks half-wild and his eyes dart over Jack's face like he's some new strange thing that just appeared before him.

Well, at least this explains those weirdly intense looks Pitch kept giving him.

Now that he can tell up from down again Jack starts feeling the bubbly, floaty feeling return. It's different from the bubbly laughing feeling though. It's like his whole body is trying to float away while wanting nothing more than to sink in and stay right here. He's staring and Pitch is starting to look nervous but he still can't quite believe it.

Pitch kissed him.

Pitch had kissed him a lot.

The grin starts small, he's still shaking and feels absolutely giddy as the smile grows onto his face.

"Wow." He says intelligently.

He planned on saying more but Pitch makes a sound like he's dying and crushes his mouth against Jack's again.

Yeah. Ok. Jack is on board with this. He is perfectly ok with this for however long Pitch wants to keep doing it. Or longer.

Unfortunately it's shorter this time, Pitch barely smashes their lips together before he's pulling away, just far enough to growl against Jack's mouth.

"Jack Jack oh you perfect boy. You're perfect and you're mine. You understand? You were meant for me Jack, you were made to belong to me!"

Jack gasps and shivers, Pitch's voice is rough and absolutely wrecked. All his usual articulate calm is gone and torn. It should be scary. It is scary. But Jack clutches harder at him and chases Pitch's words with his lips.

"Yeah…" He says shakily. His voice sounds even worse than Pitch's but its right. It's so right.  
He feels owned and it should be terrifying instead of feeling like home.

"Say it, Jack!" Pitch hisses against him, lips moving over his face, pressing quick and hard between words. "Say you're mine! I need to hear you say you're mine!" His hands are back on Jack's head, threading through his hair and holding him in place.

Jack swallows thickly, feels his breath catch on a whine and tries to nod through the grip on his head. "Yeah. Yeah I-" He feels a small laugh burst out of him and all of this is still strange and a little terrifying but it's good. It's so good. "I'm yours Pitch. I'm pretty sure I was yours a while ago."

The words are barely out of his mouth before it's covered by Pitch again.

It takes them nearly an hour, or a lifetime, to surface for air again.

When they finally pull apart Jack is fully in Pitch's lap. Two long arms are wrapped around him and he curls into Pitch as much as he can, wanting to feel completely absorbed by warmth. He's still reeling from how sudden this all is. It seems like it was ages ago that he hit that stupid fairy with a snowball while trying to pull away from how close Pitch was.

Now he feels like he can't get close enough. His heart pounds while he presses his face into the crook where Pitch's neck meets shoulder. From here he can feel Pitch's pulse fluttering against his face while he rests a hand over where Pitch's heart is slamming against his ribs.

Pitch has his face pressed against the top of Jack's head and has his hands wandering easily and aimlessly over his body. There's no real purpose to the touches, just a calm and slow exploration that makes Jack shake while soothing him at the same time.

"Well…" Jack says, surprised at how steady his voice is. "That was certainly something."

"Hmmmm." Pitch sighs into his hair. "It was much better than I had ever thought it would be."

Jack blinks. "You've uh, thought about that a lot huh? The uh...kissing I mean?"

"Extensively."

Jack's eyebrows shoot up. He just got used to the fact that Pitch kissed at all, the fact that he thought about kissing a lot was a new foreign concept. "Huh…"

"What?"

"It's just…you mean we could have already been doing that?" Jack feels cheated. As shocking as that was he feels like it should have happened way sooner.

Pitch barks out a surprised laugh that Jack can feel all over. He's in awe of how much he can feel when he's pressed this close to Pitch.

A hand presses against his jaw, gently tilting his face up. "Well." Pitch says with a delighted grin. "I suppose we could make up for lost time."

Jack's laughter is caught against Pitch's lips and trapped there. Which Jack is perfectly ok with.

"Mine." Pitch sighs against his lips, sounding more content and calm than Jack has ever heard him.

Jack smiles, feeling perfectly at home and far safer than he should.


	12. He Can Explain

In which Pitch manages to piss everyone off in one night.

(Have some angry protective Jack and loopy concussed Pitch)

* * *

_Having a physical form certainly has it's downsides_, he thinks as he slams into a wall for about the fifth time that night. Maybe he should just start going everywhere as a shadow and avoid this mess.

_Jack wouldn't like that_, is his next delirious thought. He may have a concussion. Which is ridiculous, he shouldn't be able to GET concussions.

The golden tendril around his middle lets go and he crumples to the ground with a groan. Pitch lies there for a while, trying to remember if he has bones to break and, if so, how he can go about fixing them right now to make them stop hurting so much.

"I don't see what your problem is Sandy," He wheezes. Are his ribs broken? It feels like it but he's sure he remembers being unable to break anything. Well being unbreakable doesn't do anything about PAIN it seems. "You have plenty of sand to spare. No need to be selfish."

It would have been a lot more witty sounding if he was able to stand up and stare down haughtily like he intended to. As it is, he just winces when he hears the whip crack above his head.

He manages to get his arms (_still working, not broken then_) under him and push himself up to see Sanderson bearing down on him from up on his cloud. He really hadn't expected the Guardians to be paying THAT close attention to what he was doing. It seems that they were keeping a closer eye on him since he acquired Jack.

It also may have been a mistake deciding to steal some dream sand without Jack backing him up. But he had a feeling that Jack would not approve of this plan in the first place so the best course of action would be to try and quietly go through with it on his own.

Perhaps not the best idea.

"Sandy, Sandy really." He manages, trying to sound as nice and placating as possible and not like he's about to pass out on the spot. "It was just a little sport! The humans turn your dreams into nightmares all the time! I don't see why I couldn't join in on the fun!"

He really needs to learn how to NOT TALK. A whip of gold grabs his middle again, flinging him into the air like a rag doll and slamming him down hard enough on the pavement that he swears it cracks under him.

Pitch thinks that the best thing to do would be just to lie there for a while, reminding his body that it is not currently a spatter on the ground. Yes, he decides, he's just going to stay right here, on the pavement, and quietly try not to be broken.

Of course, it's right when he decides that that Hell, in all it's frozen glory, breaks loose. The still, quiet night bursts into screaming wind and driving, pounding hail (most of which is missing him, he'll have to thank Jack later for that, it's a wonderful show of control).

Pitch struggles to roll himself over (he really needs to see this) right as Jack arrives with a scream of fury and a blizzard of swirling shards of ice. Sanderson has just enough time to look surprised and throw an umbrella of sand up before he has a wall of wicked icicles flying at him.

It hurts to laugh but that doesn't stop the pleased _(if garbled_) chuckle, and Sanderson had been Jack's FAVORITE (_Jack thinks Pitch doesn't know, but he does._) He then brings his attention back to Jack, who is...absolutely stunning.

He's crackling with his own power, ice and snow and blue energy surrounding him and his eyes are blazing, blue and hard and beautifully sharp and deadly.

"Have I ever told you that you're gorgeous?" Pitch manages to croak. "I don't think I say it enough, you are absolutely breathtaking when you're angry. Even if you are late."

Jack whips his head around to glare down at Pitch instead, which is worrisome, but Pitch is too distracted _(and still possibly concussed)_ to be concerned. Jack really is a marvel and Pitch can't help but laugh because Jack is gorgeous and enraged and it's for HIM.

Then it goes downhill very quickly.

"Shut up! Don't you DARE fucking laugh right now or I swear I will shove an icicle through your throat!" Jack had picked up the unfortunate human habit of cursing lately, he knew Pitch didn't like it and if he was using it anyway things were...bad.

"I can't, you're wonderful" Pitch is definitely concussed. "You are also too far away, and I need to kiss you right now." He moves to hold an arm(still not broken, excellent) out invitingly. "Come here."

"I am not kissing you Pitch! I'm fighting the urge to just freeze you!"

"I need to know what you taste like when you're angry." Pitch explains. It's very important that he knows. He imagines that Jack currently tastes like ice and iron with a hint of electricity. But he needs to find out for sure.

"Probably like me biting you tongue off!"

Pitch frowns, he's feeling dizzy and Jack is being difficult. "That's not a taste."

He flinches at the blast of cold air that slams into him. "Just SHUT UP while I take care of this!" Jack snaps, before turning sharply and marching over to where Sanderson is eyeing both of them with a frown.

Pitch sulks (_to no avail, Jack isn't paying attention_) and continues mentally piecing his body back together and making sure everything is accounted for. He can hear snippets of a one sided conversation carried by the wind.

"Of course not, I'm not his keeper! I don't control him!...I don't care!"

Jack isn't yelling, though it's close. His voice is barely restrained, it's the subtle shift of ice within a glacier, ready to crash into the sea. Pitch focuses on it to distract himself on the pain.

"Look I know!" Jack's voice goes lower, it turns into the dangerous, low rumble before an avalanche. "Yeah? Fine. But if I find something like this again? I'm coming after all of you, Moon be damned. Got it?"

Pitch figures that Sanderson has some response, because he can hear Jack snort and then the soft shifting of sand coming together and flying off. He rolls over onto his back, biting back the sharp groan as his entire body protests. There's movement to his side and he eyes Jack warily as the boy storms back over to him.

Jack's rage is a wonderful, glorious thing, but Pitch prefers it not directed at him. Jack is more subdued now though, his face is furrowed in a scowl but Pitch can see the concern worming its way through (he tries not to look too elated at that, that Jack is worried for him and concerned about him. He has a feeling that Jack would not appreciate it.)

He keeps quiet as Jack comes up and crouches down next to him, his mouth has gotten him in enough trouble and the world is still spinning anyway.

Jack finally lets out a tense exhale through his nostrils. "Do I want to know why Sandy decided to try to kill you?"

"Probably not." Pitch admits after a few seconds of thought. "And I doubt he was trying to kill me. He was...sending a message."

"What message?"

"We established that you don't want to know."

Jack laughs, it's tired and worn out, but real (and much better than the frowning.) "Ah. Right. I forgot about that."

Pitch pauses, "Are you going to kiss me or not?" Jack isn't angry anymore, but kissing Jack is it's own reason anyway. Especially when he's delirious and in pain.

"No. I'm still mad at you. I'm just too worried to beat the shit out of you." Jack huffs again, runs a hand over his face while Pitch carefully stays quiet (it's difficult, he can FEEL Jack's fear and gnawing concern for him in the air). When Jack looks back at him his face is less harsh, the furrows shifting to worry and tense concern. "Are you ok?"

"I'll survive."

There's another laugh, nervous and tired. "Yeah that...that's good. That's...good. I'm happy about that. Can you get up?"

"I made the decision a while ago to simply lie here forever being broken."

"Don't be a baby you aren't broken. Come on." There's a lot of awkward shuffling about (and a lot of pained hissing from Pitch), but Jack somehow manages to get most of Pitch's considerable height (and, fortunately, inconsiderable weight) supported over his shoulders.

They probably look ridiculous, Pitch is nearly twice Jack's size and still is slouched limply against him while Jack keeps an arm around his middle. They're defying physics and Pitch starts chuckling to himself when he tries to picture what they look like right now.

"Stop laughing you're still in trouble." Jack says as the wind lifts them up. There's a bit of confusion with limbs again that ends with Jack practically carrying Pitch bridal style and how is Pitch NOT supposed to laugh at what his life has turned into.

"I'm serious now that I know you'll survive I'm tempted to just toss you down that damn hole you call a front door and leave you there."

"No you won't."

"Watch me."

Pitch tucks his face against Jacks neck, it's remarkably cool and he's quite sure nothing else would feel better right now. "You won't."

He can feel the vibrations from Jack's chuckle working through his throat, pushing against his cheek.

"Yeah...I probably won't."


	13. Moments

In which there are some moments that Pitch wants to preserve and keep forever.

(Another PWP chapter whoops)

* * *

There are moments that Pitch wishes he could pause, capture perfectly and keep locked away forever.

For once he's surrounded by Jack instead of the other way around. Jack nestled in his lap, with Pitch buried deep inside him. One of Jack's arms wound around his neck and the other hand clutching at his shoulder, Jack's head bowed and pressed against the cut of Pitch's cheek. The cold puffs against his skin as Jack pants and whines and gasps cracked, high and breathless sounds.

Pitch keeps a grip on Jack's hip, making him stay still (though he wants oh he wants to drive up deeper into him wants to grab him and pound into him and make him scream but he has plans this time) and he slides the other up under Jack's sweatshirt. There was a bit of a rush at first, where everything was crashing lips, sharp teeth, and grasping, demanding hands that left Jack with a shirt on and Pitch with his robe still half on.

They somehow managed to get to Jack's little pile of cushions (Pitch is sure Jack's wind helped with that, Pitch never really cared WHERE they ended up) and Pitch had pulled Jack onto his lap without hesitation.

He was so small, so impossibly breakable and Pitch loved feeling how light he was, how Jack could be on him and he could still wrap around the boy. The sheer perfection of it brought him back down from the rush, let him control himself and make it last as he finally (finally) worked his fingers into Jack and slowly took him apart, made him shake and beg until he couldn't even find the words to beg anymore. Pitch wanted this to last.

And still wants it to last, so he focuses on the feel of skin beneath his fingers, on the twitches of muscle as Jack makes himself stay still and the slick glide of sweat. Focuses on that to distract himself from the cold tight perfect grip surrounding him pulling him in trying to take him deeper and deeper into Jack's core.

He digs his fingers into Jack's hip, hisses as Jack retaliates by grinding down on him.

"Pitch move!" He knows that Jack is trying to sound angry (he has to give credit to the fact that Jack can talk at all, considering he was incoherent earlier), but his voice is high and breathy and pleading as frost forms and melts instantly on Pitch's heated skin. It's cold and sharp on him even as the water slides down over his back and he has to lean forward and sink his teeth into Jack's shoulder to keep himself under control. He wants this to last wants to see how long he can stay inside Jack where he can feel every heartbeat and every twitch pulsing against his cock.

That was not the best way of going about it however, Jack cries out and grinds against him and now there's the taste of ice cold blood in his mouth and the feel of Jack's skin giving way and bursting under his mouth like the sweetest fruit. He can feel his fingers lengthening into claws, pressing sharp into Jack's back and hip and making the boy only whine higher and more desperate.

"The sounds you make..." he breathes, pressing his mouth against the bite, feeling blood well against his lips. "They sound like you're dying, like you're terrified even though you're clinging to me, even though you're so desperate and wanting..."

Jack shudders and clings to him harder, his voice is cracked and almost a sob now. "Pitch if you don't move I'm going to punch you!"

Pitch smiles and moves to nip at new, untouched skin (wants to mark every inch, wants to see his fingers and mouth covering every bit of Jack.) He licks away the new rising blood, savoring the taste and how exquisitely it pairs with the sound of Jack's gasping.

"Show me then," he murmurs against Jack's shoulder. "I don't see why I should do all the work for you."

He can feel Jack's laugh mixing with the shudder running down his spine (can feel the way they come together and wrap around Pitch's length, feels the vibrations and the excitement in the way Jack tightens around him.) There are cold lips smearing against his cheekbone, sliding along to his ear, where they turn into a sharp bite and blast of frost.

"Yeah? You asked for it."

Jack's arm tightens around his shoulders, braces as Jack lifts and slams himself back down, grinding and rolling his hips and all of Pitch's plans for slow go flying away. He grasps at the small body thrusting against him, groans and sinks his teeth in again and drags angry red lines across Jack's back and hips (and thighs and wherever else he can reach, he doesn't even notice, can't notice anything but the relentless push and pull and writhe of Jack surrounding him.)

And Jack doesn't stop, doesn't let up for a second as his fingers dig ice into Pitch's muscles and his voice goes high and thin. "Pitch Pitch yes please Pitch-"

He had meant for Jack to do everything, meant to watch him move against him but finds himself pushing up into Jack's thrusts. He pulls his teeth from Jack, has to pull back and gasp as Jack wails and moves harder against him. He presses his forehead against Jack's collarbone, heaving and gasping as he watches Jack roll against him (watches the way Jack's cock bobs obscenely with each thrust, red and swollen and dripping with icy fluid and it must hurt by now, has to ache with how hard it is.)

"That's it Jack that's it you're so good, so good." His voice is broken and he can barely manage to get his words through his harsh grabs for air but he can't stop. "You have no idea, no idea how you look you're so desperate, you need this NEED it need me inside you need me taking you."

Jack's voice goes louder, cracks and makes a garbled sound that may have been an attempt at words. His thrusts are growing erratic and he's practically sobbing against Pitch's ear now. Pitch takes pity on him, wraps a hand around the demanding erection dripping onto him and bites his lip at the choked cry he pulls from Jack. He can feel the way Jack tightens around him, the way his hips stutter and push harder, trying to get Pitch deeper and he knows he can't take much more.

"Just like that Jack come on come on show me how much you need it, show me, you marvelous creature. You're so good Jack, so good you're such a good boy such a perfect thing-" He's cut off by Jack's scream, choked and almost pained as he slams down one last time and grinds into Pitch while he comes.

It's heaven, it's a painful, blinding, and burning heaven searing through him and he's sure he'll die from it. He's burning and has to bite into Jack's skin again to ground himself, to feel the cold in his mouth as he shudders into the impossibly tight cold clenching around him.

Jack slumps against him, gulping down air and vibrating with the aftershocks. Pitch clings to him, running his hands over chilled, wet skin and mouthing at the bright red marks he's left on Jack's shoulders.

Jack curls in, huddles against Pitch and tucks himself into a small, vulnerable thing. He doesn't pull away, doesn't make any move to pull off of Pitch (which Pitch knows is for his benefit, he loves staying inside Jack as long as he can, for however long Jack will let him) while his breathing settles.

Pitch presses his lips to white hair, inhales deeply and wraps his arms around Jack (surrounding him while he's inside him while Jack is on him and Jack's legs around him and he can't tell where one ends and the other begins can't tell where his heat gives way to ice.)

There are moments he wants to preserve forever, that he wants to feel and see with perfect clarity whenever he wants. And this is certainly one of them.


	14. Skates

In which Pitch is going to die.

* * *

Pitch glowers at the wide frozen lake as if it has personally wronged him and was responsible for all his suffering.

The real culprit was excitedly sliding along on bare feet but his scowls stopped working on Jack a long time ago. So he'll try his luck on the lake instead.

Jack of course, forever needing to be the center of attention, glides up into his line of sight with a smile a mile wide.

"You can't thaw the lake by looking at it really hard."

"I can try." Pitch hisses.

"Let me know how that works out for you. C'mon Drama King, you agreed to this!"

"I cannot remember why and I'm suspecting that you're beginning to dabble in powers beyond you. Have you been playing with mind control?"

Jack rolls his eyes with a put-upon sigh. "It's ice skating. It's not going to kill you."

"I have definitive proof against that chattering in front of me." Pitch sneers nastily. He hisses when Jacks staff smacks him soundly on top of the head. Thank the non existent Gods that it's a cloudy night. He wouldn't be able to handle his old friend seeing this nonsense.

"You know what I mean! You're a few centuries too late to try 'lets use Jack's trauma against him' tricks."

Pitch growls to himself and looks down at his feet, and the absurd "skates" attached to them. It had been easy enough to shape shadow into sharp blades but it was ridiculous that he HAD to.

"This is humiliating."

"Oh you've done wayyyyyyyy more embarrassing stuff than this." Pitch's head snaps up to give Jack a hard look. Jack smiles innocently.

"Like what?!"

"You talk to your horse Pitch."

Pitch snarls, Jack needs to learn to leave Onyx out of things! "It's not embarrassing when she understands me!"

Jack's face does an interesting spasm and he bites his lip. Pitch knows this face. It's Jacks "I'm barely not laughing at you" face.

Pitch despises that face. Or so he's currently convincing himself.

Those blue eyes are bright with barely concealed mirth and Jack's grin just gets bigger and bigger. The brat. "Do you even listen to half the things that come out of your mouth?"

They're getting off track here. "I don't understand why you're so determined about this!"

"Because it's FUN. And we always do what you want to do anyway! Not that terrorizing and stuff isn't fun too, but I'd like to do something besides cause traffic accidents every once in awhile."

Now THAT was something fun. Since cars had become more popular Jack had discovered a new hobby of freezing over intersections and watching what happens. It also helped create a lovely spike of adrenaline-infused fear in the area.

But there is nothing scary or nightmare-inducing about ice skating.

Well.

Not to Pitch anyway.

And Jack stopped being nervous around lakes long, long ago.

Pitch continues scowling in the vain hope that maybe this time it will work. Jack raises his eyebrows.

"I will make you come out onto this ice Pitch or so help me."

Pitch bares his teeth. "You couldn't force me to do anything you littl-" he had an excellent insult for Jack ready to go but it gets lost somewhere in the startled shriek as the wind sends him careening out over the lake.

"JACK!"

Jack just cackles and lands in front of Pitch, sliding backwards and continuing to push him along with the wind. "See! That wasn't so hard! Now make a left!"

Pitch goes sailing left, STILL caught in the wind and he is going to murder the boy. He is going to actually kill him this time. He is forming a very elaborate and PAINFUL death as he yells and continues being yanked around on the ice.

"JACK! Stop that!"

"Aannnnd do a spin!"

The world goes blurred and twists violently. "Jack you won't even REMEMBER what good dreams are! I'm going to destroy you! You -AUGH!" He's nearly sent flying into the air by the next gust.

"Aw you say the SWEETEST things sugar!"

"You stop this right now so I can WRING YOUR LITTLE NECK!"

Jack slides up alongside him, smiling benignly. "Oh, you want to stop?"

Pitch should know better. He should know better than to not be instantly suspicious of that calm little smile. "YES I want to stop you idiot!"

The wind stops. Pitch does not. There's a moment of panicked vertigo when he's suddenly no longer trying to lean against the wall of air shoving him around and he can't tell which way is up of where the ground is.

Then the ice reminds him, rather painfully, where it is,

There's another thud that he's pretty sure was Jack actually falling over from laughing so hard. Pitch just lays on the ice, on his back, staring up into the night sky while Jack breaks down into hysterics.

He mentally goes over every single life decision he has made that led him to this moment.

Really everything went downhill when he let that boy follow him around.

He pointedly does not look over when Jack smoothly slides up next to him, lying on his side and head propped up on his hand.

"Howdy stranger, fancy meeting you on a night like this."

"I'm going die. Literally, this is where it ends for me."

"That was the best thing ever. The best." Jack starts breaking into giggles again, and Pitch's scowl darkens. "You looked like a spider trying to rollerblade!"

"I don't know what rollerblading is and I don't care. I'm going to die, and then I'm going to kill you."

"That doesn't make sense. Come on! Get up!"

"No."

There's movement out of the corner of his eye, then Jack is up and leaning over his head, blocking his view of clouds above them. "Oh come on Drama King!"

"I already told you that I'm going to die. I'm not getting up."

"You can't be serious."

"I'm dying of course I'm serious. This is the single most humiliating moment of my life. Honestly, this? This sums up the farce that is my existence."

"Oh my god."

"Everything has led to this moment. I am pretty sure that there is nothing more that can be done to break my spirit, so I've decided to end it here."

Jack snorts and nearly falls over giggling again. His grin is blinding and his eyes are impossibly bright with horrible glee. That framed by the dark clouds in the night sky and softly falling snow make him one of the most painfully beautiful things Pitch can think of.

Right now he hates Jack a little bit for it. He narrows his eyes and tries to make his hatred quite clear.

Jack's grin gets even wider and brighter. "So this is the end then huh?"

"I'm sure I already made that quite clear Jack. You have led me to the point where I end up dying, on my back, on some godforsaken frozen lake."

"I like the on your back part at least." Jack purrs. He never could purr right and it sounds more like a hoarse and strangled slur of words. It should not be attractive.

"Shut up Jack, I'm dying and that's all you can think of."

"You're really caught up on this dying thing aren't you?" Jack sits down by Pitch's shoulder, still leaning over him. It brings him a lot closer, so Pitch won't complain.

"Don't forget that I'm still planning on killing you afterwards."

"Oh of course not. Wouldn't dream of forgetting that. How long will it be now? The whole you dying part I mean, I don't wanna just sit around waiting forever."

Pitch finds one of his hands crawling up to rest on Jack's side completely against his will. "It will be a slow and painful death I'm sure. That would fit in with the rest of my life after all."

Jack leans down further and Pitch's entire view is filled with Jack and his every breath is filled with the scent of him. There's cool breath over his face and Jack lowers his voice, grinning widely as he hovers over Pitch.

"Nothing I could do to ease your passing?"

Pitch's traitorous hand moves from Jack's side up to rest on the back of his head, fingers tangling up in white hair. "You could at least TRY to be less cliche."

Jack somehow leans in closer, but not quite close enough for their lips to actually touch. Pitch can feel the echoes of movement as Jack talks. "No I can't do that I'm afraid. I've been around you too much and picked up some bad ha-"

Pitch tugs down and shuts him up.

Jack comes crashing down over him and there's a tangle of arms and legs and clutching hands that makes Pitch forget that he was planning to die.

Until hours later, when there's cold ice on his back and a cold Jack perfectly bare and flopped over his front. Pitch is running a hand over Jacks back, grinning to himself whenever his fingers brush against a raised bitemark.

He thinks that Jack is asleep until the boy mumbles against his neck.

"You seriously are taking FOREVER to just die."

Pitch smacks him.


	15. New Things

In which Jack learns a few new things about himself and Pitch doesn't know how positive reinforcement works.

(Yooooooo we got some hella warnings in this chapter! So be prepared for; restraints, blood, biting, possessive behavior, Dom/sub undertones, Pitch being bad at relationship etiquette.

I also tried to make it clear, but Jack DOES fight with Pitch about his dumb possessive shit later. He's just a bit...distracted for now. But later the fight will be a screaming match of epic proportions.) 

* * *

He knows that it's bad as soon as he drops down through the hole. The lair is silent, full of nothing but ominously dark shadows and empty cages. Jack can see traces of movement in the darker corners, where the Nightmares and fearlings cower and shrink away.

Ohhh definitely not good. How long had he been gone? It had gotten hard to tell when he realized that the sun up in the North Pole had no intentions of rising for a while. You couldn't blame him for losing track of time when there was no sun!

Jack lands on one of the bigger bridges and tentatively starts to look around. There's absolutely no sign of Pitch, which means squat down here, especially with it so obvious that the King of Nightmares is pissed.

So instead of Pitch being gone, it's far more likely that he's already stalking around in the shadows, ready to pop out and make his dramatic entrance.

Alright, so, guessing that there's going to be a great big looming Drama King behind me in three…two…one…

"Jack…" And just as expected, Pitch's voice comes from right behind Jack. Soft and steady and way, wayyy too calm to be comforting. "Where have you been?"

Even though he was anticipating it Jack still jumps when a large hand grabs the back of his neck. He yelps as he gets yanked back, Pitch's long fingers almost wrap entirely around and he swallows, feeling fingertips at his throat and a hot palm on his nape. It's ridiculous really, even after all this time he's thrown off whenever he's reminded how huge Pitch is.

He manages to crane his head around enough to look at Pitch out of the corner of his eye and gives his biggest grin. It doesn't even falter when he catches sight of the way Pitch's eyes are trying to burn a hole through his skull. Really, Jack deserves bonus points for being able to keep his smile up in the face of that.

"Heey Pitch! Have I been gone long? I hadn't noticed!" Not a lie, technically!

Pitch bares his teeth (all sharp points, oh he's in trouble) and tightens the hand on Jack's neck, giving him a small shake. "Don't try to act innocent! You've been gone for a month! A month, Jack! Where were you?!"

"Hey, I really hadn't noticed! The sun wasn't coming up in the North Pole and-"

"The Pole!?" Oops. Jack winces when he feels claws start to prick at the skin of his throat. "What were you doing at the Pole!?"

He swallows again, and can feel the way his throat moves against the claws digging into him (had never really given much thought to how thin the skin on his throat is but it feels terrifyingly like paper now.)

"Look it wasn't a big deal! North was still all annoyed that I was able to break in that one time so he wanted me to test out his new security measures!" He can feel the hand tensing on his neck, can FEEL the growing heat behind him and he should probably shut up now. Well, he already started, might as well finish. "So I kept getting past them and he had to keep changing them and it just ended up lasting longer than I thought! Like I said I hadn't noticed that the sun just…wasn't coming up at all and-"

That's when Jack notices it, the slow, steadily building hissing in the air. Not good, that is so not good, that is a new level of not good.

"Uh…so I'm sorry that I didn't notice that the sun wasn't coming up for a month…?"

"And since when," Pitch starts, his voice is calm, so calm and soft and steady and Jack can hear the simmering danger, "are you and The Cossack such good pals." He hisses the last word like it's something filthy.

Jack frowns, "The Cos-….Oh! North!" The hiss grows and the hand around his neck clenches. "North! Right! I wouldn't say pals but he's not bad ok!" He frowns more at that, now HE'S getting annoyed.

"Actually I kind of like him! North may not like you but he hasn't tried to tell me you leave you like Cottontail and Bird did! He lets me mess with his ice sculptures and you know what?" He needs to stop, the fingers are tensing more on his neck and the claws are growing and he should probably stop he reallllyy needs to stop talking. "I'm probably going to visit him again sometime!"

There's an animal snarl behind him and before Jack can even think the hand on his neck shoves at him, wrenches and slams him down onto his knees. He manages to bite back the pained cry as his knees crash into stone hard enough to send the shock jarring through his body. He sucks in a tense breath and he doesn't know what's going on but everything goes muffled. It's like his head is stuffed with cotton and there's nothing but the rock digging in to his knees, the scalding hand gripping his neck and the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears.

He can feel more than he can see the way Pitch towers and curls over him. "You're mine Jack! Mine! And I'm not going to give them a chance to even try to take you away from me! They may ACT friendly to you but all they're concerned with is finding another way to cast me down! That's all they've ever done!"

Pitch's grip on his neck is like iron and he yanks back, makes Jack's head tilt back and pulls until his back is arched and strained. His entire balance is thrown and he knows that Pitch's grasp is the only thing keeping him from toppling backwards. He can't get enough air into his lungs, he can't think and barely even registers what Pitch is saying.

"And you think it's alright, that it's perfectly fine to go throwing yourself at them as soon as they show you a little toy!? To go running to them because they're nice to you?! You're not going to go back there! I forbid it" He should be protesting, Pitch has no right to tell him who he can and can't talk to but he'll have to bring this up later because right now he's having a hard enough time getting his thoughts together, much less forming them into words.

Later he'll have words again. He'll remember that Pitch is being an ass and he'll say so and there will be a lot of yelling and some things may be thrown. But now he can only mentally flail because he knows that this is something to argue with but he can't pull his mind from the burning iron grip on his neck or the way Pitch is the only thing holding him up and keeping him from toppling over.

"Pitch-"

"Shut up!" The world lurches as Pitch throws him forward and he barely manages to fling his hands up in time to stop his face from crashing into the rough stone floor. "You belong to me Jack! You're mine!"

Pitch sounds frantic, his voice is a rushed growl and his claws dig in until Jack can feel cold and thick liquid sliding down from the sharp points at his throat.

He's terrified, completely terrified.

But he's nearly shaking with anticipation and there's a thrill running up his spine with the terror. It's like his body is a taut wire that doesn't even know which way to vibrate. He sucks in air, feels it stutter in his clenching lungs and hears a sharp intake of breath behind him.

Jack keeps his eyes on the hard stone beneath his hands, makes himself focus on the roughness, on the color of it because otherwise he might drown and he doesn't even know why.

"Pitch what-" He breaks off in a strangled yelp when Pitch snarls and suddenly there are claws raking down Jacks back, ripping into his shirt and yanking his pants down to his thighs.

Jack jumps at the rush of warm air on his skin and OH this just went an unexpected direction. He gulps down air, can't get enough air and his hands curl into fists on the rough stone.

Jack can barely move. The hand on his neck is holding him down and his pants are stretched around his thighs, effectively binding his legs. The air feels like it's crackling and thick, pushing against his exposed skin and he can hear the rustling of fabric (can see bits of shadow shifting away which means Pitch is undressing) behind him. It sounds impossibly loud, everything around him is muffled under the sound of his heart pounding in his ears and his own gasping but he can hear that all too well.

"Um…" Should he say something?

He feels like he should say something by this point, at least to try to remind Pitch that there is a bottle of oil tucked away somewhere and that may come in handy. And would be appreciated.

But he only gets as far as parting his lips to talk before he's nearly gagging on two long, hot fingers (thankfully without claws, he thinks a little hysterically.)

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you what to do." Pitch's voice is still that low, dangerous, and even growl that slides down Jack's spine like a knife. Jack feels his insides clench and everything goes all cold and warm at once because this is going to hurt. There's nothing but his saliva and he's not sure that will work.

And that thought shouldn't make his breath catch on a whine or make it feel like his skin is suddenly too tight for his body. He tries to breath through his nose (tries to breath in general and that keeps getting more and more difficult) and sucks, pushes his tongue against those fingers and laps at every bit of them. They're so long that he feels like Pitch is reaching down his throat and he nearly gags, nearly chokes and that just makes him whimper and suck harder.

He can hear Pitch's breathing hitch and the hand on his neck finally lets go, only to drag down his back and finish clawing through his shirt. He catches movement out of the corner of his eye as the shreds fall to either side of him, leaving the tatters clinging to his arms and he has just enough brain power to wildly think "That was my only damn shirt" before everything goes white. Pitch's teeth (still sharp as knives) sink into the muscle above his shoulder blade and Jack nearly bites down on the fingers in his mouth. He yells around them instead, clenches his fists against the pain while Pitch laps at the blood running down his back.

And that shouldn't make his cock twitch, shouldn't make him groan and twist his tongue around the fingers gagging him but Jack seems to be learning more and more new things about himself tonight.

Pitch finally pulls his fingers away and Jack gasps and coughs as they're ripped from his mouth. He gulps down air, tries to pull himself together and brace himself while that hand glides down his back.

He can feel Pitch's mouth wandering over him, leaving a burning trail as it moves over his skin and murmurs wordlessly against him. Jack keeps trying to breathe evenly, trying to regain something that resembles control. He loses any ground he gained as soon as Pitch bites down into the small of his back and unceremoniously shoves one finger fully inside of him.

All the air rushes out of Jack's lungs and he only manages a strained, choked noise because god that hurts, that hurts and it's too much at once Pitch's fingers had never felt so HUGE before. It feels like a hot brand inside of him and Pitch doesn't even give him a second to adjust before it's twisting and moving inside of him. It hurts it hurts the friction is burning but he's pushing back into it. He can hardly breathe and Pitch is dragging sharp teeth over his back and everything is on fire but he arches into it and grinds back against the pain.

Pitch's breath is a harsh rattle and his free hand is raking sharp claws over Jack's skin (and oh thank god Pitch is aware of himself enough to only keep the claws on one hand, though it feels like that hand is making up for both of them). Jack grits his teeth on another whine and everything hurts every nerve is lighting up and there's blood running over his back but he's still straining into it and moving his hips against Pitch's hand.

He manages one thrust back before the other hand shoves hard between his shoulder blades and sends him crashing down onto his forearms. Pitch holds him there, sinking claws into his skin and keeping him firmly down (and since when was his hand so huge, was it always that big? It's almost covering all of Jacks upper back he can feel the press of it all over him.)

"Hold still!" Pitch snaps. Jack only whimpers and presses his forehead against the stone, he can hear a faint popping as he pants a thin layer of frost over the black rock and he focuses on that to keep himself from just mindlessly grinding back.

Pitch tenses his hand, digs his claws further in and pulls his finger out only to shove another one in with it. Jack chokes on the air, bites back a scream and digs his fingers into the stone while Pitch twists and curls both fingers inside of him (hot hot they're too hot too much it's all too much he wants more of it). Jack's saliva is barely enough but Pitch starts thrusting his fingers in and out of him anyway. He's scissoring his fingers with every sharp push in and it's only a matter of time before he finds that perfect spot that does make Jack scream.

Pitch is merciless as soon as he finds that spot, he presses in, swipes both fingertips in a circle and scissors around it. Even with the hand on his back Jack rolls his hips and tries to get the long fingers inside him even deeper, tries to press back harder. Jack gasps for air and can't stop gasping can't stop every breath from catching on a high wail while he writhes against the weight holding him down.

He manages to thrust back, throws his weight back and Pitch presses against him with a snarl. The weight on his back lifts and long fingers weave through his hair instead, yanking his head sharply back and to the side and he manages a surprised inhale before those wicked teeth go deep into the curve where his neck meets his shoulder.

"Pitch!" Jack barely recognizes his own voice, barely registers that the strained, broken and choked noises are from him. He can feel Pitch's answering growl sink into his muscle through the teeth buried in him. He can feel Pitch everywhere, twisting inside him and plastered to his back and stabbing into his skin as Pitch bites down harder.

Jack whines (he feels like that's all he CAN do now) and pushes back, bites his lip when he feels the naked and searing heat of Pitch's erection press against his hip. He can feel it twitch against him and burn into his skin and it's never felt so huge before.

Jack needs that in him. Now.

"Pitch, Pitch please please-" Words are difficult right now. He can't stop panting the word "please" like a prayer and it gets even more difficult when he feels Pitch groan into his neck.

It hurts more when Pitch yanks his teeth out then when he sank them in and Jack cries out from the sharp pain of it while Pitch nuzzles against his jaw.

"Please what, Jack?" Pitch's voice is a rough, harsh growl. "What do you want?"

Even through the fog that's taking up his brain right now, Jack gets the sudden urge to just punch him. Instead he groans and grasps at words, he gets as far as another strained "please" before Pitch pulls his fingers away and the breath stops in Jack's throat.

He's still burning (only he's empty now and feels completely hollowed out) and Pitch grasps at his hip, digging his fingers in hard enough to bruise as he pushes hot and insistent against Jack's opening, growling against his neck.

"Tell me, Jack! Tell me what you want, what you need."

"Oh god Pitch, please PLEASE," His voice is barely above a whisper, a high breathy and thin plea. "Please I need you in me Pitch, please Pitch I want you inside me please please please!"

Pitch pants against Jack's skin, grabbing at his hips with both hands and grinds against him. Jack drops his head back down, keening soft and desperate while he arches his back. Pitch's erection is a red hot line against his entrance and he's barely stretched and it feels absolutely massive. He can feel the head of it catching against his entrance but Pitch won't push in won't give in just yet. The stone in front of him is completely coated with ice and his fingers dig ice into every crack and crevice of it. He anchors himself in it to keep from flying apart from the anticipation.

Jack can hear the sound of Pitch spitting and bites his lip, it's such a base crude thing and he can barely comprehend Pitch doing it but he feels the hand brush against him as it slicks that burning erection. Jack can barely breathe, can't get enough air into his lungs and he starts to feel dizzy from it as he heaves and gasps blindly.

Pitch's lips press against the shell of his ear and Jack can feel his hands shaking where they grip his hips. "Shhhh Jack, who do you belong to, tell me who owns you…"

"God Pitch, you! I'm yours, I'm yours you know I'm yours!"

Just like that Pitch slides into him. Jack barely had any warning, just the sharp inhale and hiss before the sudden stretch and demanding push. It's too fast it's too big and it burns and Jack screams into the stone floor. He can barely suck in enough air to keep screaming, he feels like he's being ripped apart.

Pitch's hips finally press up against him and Jack is sure his voice is almost gone from screaming. He can only shake and pull air into his lungs through his cracked throat and whimper from the thick heavy heat pulling him apart and burning him from the inside out.

He's barely aware of Pitch muttering into his hair, it's a stream of barely understandable babble and Jack can only catch instances of his name scattered here and there. There are huge hands sliding over his body, up his sides and over his trembling thighs. He's sure it would be soothing if it weren't for the claws leaving lines of white fire behind them.

He's on fire everywhere and there's blood dripping bright red and cold onto the stone and his knees are scraped and aching and everything hurts. And he's so hard that even that hurts. He glances down and whines softly when he sees his own erection, almost purple and steadily leaking clear, thick fluid into a puddle on the floor.

Right when he's wondering if he'll actually survive this there are hands at his hips again, digging new sharp points into him and Pitch is moving. There's no build up, no steady rocking like usual. Pitch simply pulls out and snaps back into him, rough and insistent and Jack thought he was done screaming but can't stop again.

His voice breaks into a constant, high wail, hitching with every thrust as the air is punched out of his lungs again and again and again. There are teeth dragging along his neck and Pitch presses his mouth against the still bleeding bite from earlier. Stays there and presses his tongue to the cuts while he gasps hot and wet against Jack's freezing skin. Usually he'd be talking, Jack is used to Pitch letting out a constant barrage of words but now he only gasps and moans while he licks along the trails of blood.

Jack tilts his head, gives him more access and shudders when Pitch sucks a bruise over the already angry mark. His erection is throbbing and it hurts it's almost too much now.

"Pitch Pitch please, touch me I need you to touch me."

"No." There's a growl against his neck, low and rumbling and he feels it where Pitch's chest is pressed against his back. Jack keens, desperate and high and Pitch isn't letting up at all, he's actually driving into him harder and faster as he snarls. "No you're going to come from this or you won't come at all!" He snaps his hips hard then, holds them there and grinds deep into Jack. And suddenly Jack thinks that won't be a problem.

There's a hand on the back of his neck again, pushing down hard until Jack's chest is pressed to rough stone. He turns his face so he can breathe and Pitch just grinds into him with a relentless barrage of quick and shallow thrusts. Jack's voice finally cracks into nothing but strangled, broken sounds because Pitch is pressing right THERE and just rocking shallowly in him, keeping constant pressure back and forth back and forth and it isn't letting up it just keeps going and going and Jack is going to fall apart.

Jack can feel the shaking start from somewhere low in his belly, his entire body is quivering and he can't think of anything but Pitch's name repeating like a chant in his head as every muscle coils up. He's going to implode or explode or something. He opens his mouth and his throat closes up and when he finally comes he can't even make a sound.

It's like every nerve is being ripped apart and he can't stop his muscles from spasming while he thrashes against Pitch's hand and silently screams. He's dying, he's sure of it, Pitch never even touched him and he's never come harder in his life. Pitch starts thrusting again, wild and erratic as he pounds Jack through his orgasm.

Jack is aware of Pitch talking now, but it's a muffled, distant noise over the ringing in his ears and when he feels Pitch slam into him one last time, when he feels him twitch and feels molten wetness inside him he actually blacks out.

He's sure he's out for only a second, but between one blink and the next he's off the floor and cradled against Pitch's chest. There are lips against his temple and there's a hand moving gently over his side. For a few wonderful seconds he feels like he's riding a cloud, like he's separated from everything. The world is fuzzy and glowing and Pitch is wonderfully warm.

Then, one by one various aches and pains start letting themselves be known and it gets hard to breathe again. He doesn't even know why but he starts shaking and curling in as he tries to gulp down air. He was high and flying before and now it's like he's crashing down. Jack can't tell if he's falling apart or just waking up and his back is a torn mess, his knees are raw and he can't even move his head without his neck flaring with pain and he can't. breathe.

"Shhhh, you're alright Jack, that's it…" He curls into Pitch, closes his eyes and concentrates on the hands petting over him and the soft words against his temple. He tucks into that warmth and finally surfaces, sucking down air and feeling his body start to relax again.

The world lurches slightly as Pitch stands up, still holding Jack carefully against him as he steps into the shadows. Usually Jack hates it, hates being carried around like a doll and ESPECIALLY hates when Pitch goes into the shadows with him.

But right now he's too boneless and brainless to care. Pitch finds one of the many beds scattered through the lair and pauses for a moment in front of it, like he's considering something.

"Don't you even think about it." Jack mumbles. "You put me on top of that thing. I'm not going under there when I'm feeling like this."

Pitch snorts in amusement and obligingly places Jack carefully on top of the bed. Jack winces when the blankets catch on the scratches on his back (and he's pretty sure his back looks like a war zone right now, not to mention his neck) and there are hands nervously running over him and checking him again.

Pitch doesn't seem to know what to do with himself. He would usually be finding new ways to wrap himself around Jack but he just keeps hovering over him almost guiltily. There's a shifting noise and then a cold, wet cloth gently dabbing at his back. Jack sucks in a breath between his teeth and he can feel Pitch stiffen beside him.

Jack shifts enough so his back is easier to reach to show that Pitch should continue (it may sting but the cloth feels like heaven right now against the burning cuts). There's only a heartbeat of hesitation before the cleaning continues and Pitch's free hand begins running shakily through Jack's hair.

"Are you….alright?" Pitch's voice is rough, and sounds oddly lost. Jack wants to laugh because what kind of question is that?

"I'll let you know when I figure out if I'm alive or not." He croaks. His throat is raw and he feels like he won't be able to move for a week at least. He manages to crack a grin. "I can't believe I actually passed out."

He doesn't need to open his eyes to know that Pitch is looking far too pleased with himself. The bastard is going to be smug for months once he stops feeling guilty.

But that's fine.

Jack's already planning his next visit to the North Pole.


	16. Lessons Learned: Part 1

In which Jack learns a valuable lesson, and sometimes Pitch is the voice of reason.

(Jack may be a good influence on Pitch, but Pitch aint the best influence on Jack.

And note: this is NOT JAMIE. This takes place around Revolutionary War time. In the EB timeline, this means Jack and Pitch are an item now but are still kinda new to it.)

* * *

Belief was still a new sensation for Jack. It had been several decades since the first child saw him, but Jack still could cry every time he sees the recognition in their small faces.

And when one boy believes so, so much that Jack feels dizzy with it, when he looks at Jack and instantly smiles like his whole world lit up; Jack can't help but get attached.

James is the first (and only) child that Jack makes special time for, that he visits as often as he can every winter.

The child was so bright and time slows down while Jack shows the small boy how to make snowmen, how to skate (how to tell if the ice is too thin), how to pack the perfect snowball. He spends as much time as he can get away with playing with James (and Pitch had warned him, hadn't he? Had creased his forehead with worry while he told Jack not to get attached, not to put so much faith in them. Jack had thought he had meant because the boy wouldn't live long, had thought he was prepared.)

He becomes James' best friend, and he starts to notice small details.

There's the way James will look like his world his shattering when the night comes, when it's time to go home. The way the other children avoid him and the adults in the village whispered when his back was turned.

Jack didn't really remember what a "bastard" was, but he knows what a lonely kid looked like.

And he loves his time with James, but the boy needs other kids! He needs other people! So it's on a whim that Jack chucks a snowball at one of the other children, he's not sure why he did it. But he spends the whole rest of the day watching and laughing while all the kids break into a snowball fight that spans the whole village and the air is filled with shrieks of laughter.

He knew it wouldn't last, thought he was prepared (Pitch had warned him he had told him to be careful Jack had thought he understood.)

It hurts, when he shows up one year and James is a tall, thin and growing young man who walks through him. He feels it deep down when the young man laughs at the idea of his old imaginary friend.

Jack Frost is a dumb story for children after all.

And it hurts, it yanks deep in his chest, but he was prepared. So he's ok.

He wasn't prepared for his first taste of human war.

He had come back hoping to find James' children, but there's screaming and wailing in the air and blood on the snow.

Jack finds James, in a crowd of other young men (Jack can name most of them still) and laughing. Laughing and shouting as they yank a man and his wife to the center of the town and Jack doesn't understand he yells and tries to get them to stop and doesn't understand.

There are kids screaming and Jack realizes that they're the man's kids and they're sobbing and choking while the man screams as the hot tar is poured on him.

Jack can hear skin and tar sizzling and there's nothing but screaming.

"Stop..." He can barely speak, can't get the word past the lump in his throat he can't stop shaking. "Stop! James stop!"

James laughs and grabs the bag of feathers, laughs while the man screams while the children scream and there's blood and black tar on the snow and James laughs (Jack can hear the echoes of the child's laugh in it, he can recognize it.)

The man's screams start giving way to pained sobs and the children are barely whimpering. Jack covers his ears but still hears James yell something at a man who goes and grabs the little girl by her hair and Jack screams with her.

The wind howls and the snow whirls but they don't stop and Jack leaves, leaves and can't do anything while James laughs.

Later Jack finds James again with a group of men all wearing the same clothes and yelling together. He see's a burning village in the distance and the storm doesn't end. The snow comes down hard and mixes with ice and he follows them for days. He screams his rage into the wind and sends it howling until every one of them falls.

He can't stop screaming can't stop the tears and he has to leave has to get away from the blood and the smoke and the human yells. He goes far, far to the south, finds a frozen waste where he surrounds himself with the wind and snow.

Jack doesn't know how long he's there, doesn't know how he's still screaming though his voice is nearly broken. He doesn't know how Pitch finds him and has no idea how Pitch managed to get through the relentless and raging wind.

He hadn't even realized that Pitch was there until there are long arms around him and he's yanked in against a warm and solid chest and there are hands wiping the tears from his face.

"Jack, Jack sshh it's alright Jack it's alright." Jack's voice finally cracks, breaks the scream and he falls into soft sobs that he buries against Pitch's warmth. The arms around him tighten and the hands on his back and in his hair are shaking (and he doesn't understand that still, that Pitch is shaking and terrified.)

Pitch doesn't say anything, just holds him until Jack can pull in air without it catching on a sob. He breathes deep, breathes in the warm and dusty smell of Pitch until he can speak.

"I found James, Pitch he-he was with other men and-" His breath is stuttering again, "and they were hurting a man and I don't know why! But they were all screaming and James was laughing and there were kids!" He clings to Pitch's robe, tries to tuck himself in tighter while Pitch's hands cling onto him. "Something went wrong! It went wrong when he got bigger! I don't know what happened Pitch he went bad!"

"Oh Jack..." He's never heard Pitch's voice filled with so much pity, like he expected this, like he knew (he had warned Jack, he had told him.) There are warm lips against his temple as Pitch strokes his back. "Jack...he's human. That's what they do."


	17. Lessons Learned: Part 2

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Death, murder, breathplay, bad methods of dealing with psychological trauma, Pitch is creepy.

* * *

He'll never understand Jack's love of children.

Even after seeing what they become, what happens to that brightness, Jack is ferociously protective. He'll go out even more now, play with more children and work harder to bring smiles to their faces. He'll bring groups together and spend days in one town. (But he'll never talk about individual children anymore. Jack doesn't let himself get focused and attached now. So at least he learned something.)

"Why!?" Pitch had finally snapped. Jack paused in the middle of some new story about sledding with children, smile fading as Pitch goes on. "Why do you care so much!? You know they won't stay that way! You know what they turn into!"

Jack shrinks in slightly, looking away. "I know." He says softly, eyes going distant. "I know...but I want to protect them while they're like this. They don't stay good for long...and I want them to be happy while they're still bright and before they go bad."

Pitch still doesn't understand. Children turn into humans, and nothing can be done about it. Nothing can redeem them.

He doesn't understand, but he accepts. He accept and watches, perplexed, as each new horror that unveils itself just makes Jack more determined to protect the children while they're young.

To them, he is laughter and gently falling snow and glittering blue eyes showing them new ways to have fun.

To those who hurt them...he's ice and freezing water and a sudden slick area next to a sharp, long fall.

Jack loves children fiercely. But he has very little regard for adults. And he's a quiet, frozen death for the adults who harm children.

Jack never directly kills, but Pitch sees the way he carefully lays out thin ice over a pond that he knows certain men go fishing in. Sees how Jack watches with flat eyes while his victims slip over a precipice or get lost and disoriented in the blizzard that will never let up.

Pitch is pretty sure that Jack's Guardian friends don't know about his little side hobbies.

"They'll catch you one day." Pitch says to him once. They stand in the trees next to some frozen pond in Europe. Everything is quiet (it wasn't a few seconds ago) and Pitch can't look away from Jack watching the fresh hole in the ice. "You're little friends. I doubt they'd approve."

Jack blinks, a short, quick movement that doesn't seem quite natural as he looks up at Pitch.

Pitch can hardly stand to look back, but he can't stand to look away. Jack is painfully beautiful and horrible when he's like this. His colors are drained and he looks like something hewn from the ice. His skin is papery white, with just faint tinges of blue where there should be pink. His eyes are flat and dull and completely blank.

His eyes look like thin ice over very, very deep water.

He looks like the frozen corpse that he is.

"It's only the bad ones." He says, voice odd and distant. "I only kill the bad ones."

"If you only kill the 'bad ones' you'll end up taking them all!" Pitch snaps. "They're all like that Jack! Some are just holding it in, but they know what they are! It's all laid out in their fear!"

Jack doesn't react. He never does when he's like this. He just blinks again and looks back to where the ice is already closing over the lake again. "Just the bad ones..." He says. "Just the ones that hurt the kids. The kids are still good."

Pitch doesn't know what else to say. He never does when Jack goes all dead and cold.

It doesn't happen often.

It's only every few years, that Jack will start getting quiet.

It starts with a jumpy, nervous silence. With Jack leaving for longer and longer periods of time after finding someone who's earned his...darker attentions.

Then the jumping and twitching stops. The silence gets heavy, grows solid and dense and takes a physical form in Jack. Pitch will watch, will always watch, as Jack starts to turn to ice. As he'll go deathly still and lost in his own head, as his skin bleaches out and his eyes go flat and distant.

It's always then that Pitch knows that the latest victim doesn't have long.

Jack never toys with them. He simply uses whatever works best at the time; a blizzard, a collapsed roof, a falling icicle...

Later, when cars blaze down the roads at already deadly speeds, Jack will find how easy it is to make ice blend in with the black pavement (and the Guardians never notice. Never see what Jack is as they try to lure him to them. Too concerned with the precious children to see what Jack can do to the adults.)

He turns into something else entirely.

And it makes Pitch's still heart stammer, seeing Jack like this (like a ghost, a hollow specter of death. A merciless but simple tool of revenge with the dead, frosted eyes of a corpse. Jack becomes a nightmare all on his own).

Pitch does not believe in any powers higher than them. But he would call Jack an angel. A perfect, terrible, beautiful angel of cold and dark and death.

It wrenches at his lungs, makes his blood curdle and his throat close up on the next breath.

It's far too beautiful.

And it's not His Jack.

It's not that Pitch doesn't love the glimpses of this Other Jack. He'll follow Jack the entire time that the boy is a hollow body. Pitch won't take his eyes away from the gorgeous puppet that has replaced his Jack.

But he always breathes out a sigh of relief when the ice breaks and Jack smiles again.

Usually it happens on it's own. Shortly after Jack is done with whoever earned his wrath he'll crawl back. Crawl to Pitch and curl into him...

...and slowly shatter apart.

And Pitch will put the pieces back together. Will hold him and smooth the cracks away until Jack is shuddering and gasping and coming back to life at the touch of his hand.

But sometimes it takes more.

It's been almost an entire season. A season of looking into dead, blank and frosted eyes that should be shining bright. A season of this porcelain, frozen creature wearing Jack's face.

Jack moves like a mechanical doll. Every move just jerky enough to look wrong. It's like everything is programmed in.

It's all wrong, even as Jack reaches up with blue tinged fingers and pulls Pitch down on top of him.

Jack can always tell when just tucking himself up against Pitch's ribs won't be enough.

It's like kissing a glacier, like putting his lips to marble and Pitch presses in for more. He moves slow, running his hands over the sharp and hard skin hoping to coax Jack back out.

Jack presses back, eyes dead while he gasps softly and arches as Pitch slides into him. Fingers like frosted steel digging into Pitch's shoulders.

And Pitch keeps himself gentle and slow and cradles Jack's face within his hands. He moves over Jack's skin, keeping his touches gentle and soft and steady. (Even though he wants to tear at Jack and dig into him until he can find HIS Jack again.)

Gentle is what has always worked. Slow, soft and coaxing touches that thaw and bring Jack back out of his shell.

Jack arches and sighs and moves against him, but his eyes are flat and he isn't breaking down into trembles like he usually does. Pitch kisses him harder, pushes more, clings harder

and he can feel the panic starting.

Jack isn't coming back, Jack isn't breaking through and coming back to life, he's dead he's dead his Jack is dead and he'll only have this monster now.

He hasn't noticed that he's stopped, that he's just shaking now and curled around Jack, still pressed deep inside him while his fingers clutch. Doesn't realize how much he's shaking until a cold (it's a different cold, Jack's cold is a sweet and sharp thing but this is burning and deep and blistering) hand wraps around his, bringing it up.

There's a flicker, just enough that Pitch can feel the slight tremor of fear with it. Jack isn't coming out like he usually does, and they both know it.

Jack's eyes (the terrible flat and clouded blue eyes) stare at him as he brings Pitch's hand up to his throat.

He presses Pitch's palm against his pulse and tilts his head back. His face is blank and his voice is hollow.

"Scare me."

Pitch goes still, feels the air punched out of him and isn't sure he heard right, though his hand is already closing, curling around that thin neck.

He can feel the heartbeat against his palm (not dead he's not dead yet he can still come out) jumping as his fingers close all the way around and start to squeeze. Jack inhales deep, and Pitch can feel the air going through his throat, can feel the way it rattles against his hand as he slowly tightens his grip.

Jack isn't afraid yet, but he's giving himself so completely, giving his LIFE to Pitch, giving his mind over. Pitch presses deeper into him while he presses just a little more with his hand. He wants this to be steady, wants to feel Jack's breath slowly strain against his palm.

He leans down, not quite close enough for a kiss. But close enough to feel the exhales growing thinner and thinner as he squeezes.

Even if he's dead, Jack still starts to feel the lack of air, starts to open his mouth to try inhaling against the pressure on his throat.

Pitch leans in further, breathes in the sound of Jack gasping against his hand and breathes in the last breath Jack lets out.

Jack's body jerks, an automatic reaction with no real fear behind it, but the shadows creep in, hold his limbs down and keep him still while Pitch starts to move.

He braces his weight on the hand at Jack's throat, feels the pulse stuttering and jumping and the muscles straining. Presses harder while his hips slam into Jack.

It makes Jack jump against the shadows holding him down, makes his eyes go wide and his mouth open on a silent sound that Pitch feels caught against his hand. There's a desperate whisper of noise that Pitch digs his fingers into.

He breathes harder while Jack doesn't breathe at all. With his cries silenced there's just the sound of slapping skin and Pitch's own gasping breaths while he pounds into Jack and squeezes more and more.

Jack closes his eyes, fingers scrambling at the stone and arms jerking against the shadows. Pitch can feel how hard Jack is, pressed against his stomach and twitching with each thrust of Pitch's hips.

Jack is straining for him

and Pitch has him.

Has Jack reacting to every thrust and press. Has him entirely under Pitch's control, literally in the palm of his hand. Even the occasional threads of air Jack manages to suck in are only because Pitch lets him.

And then Pitch stops allowing even that. He squeezes and doesn't let up this time, keeps his fingers like a vice as he thrusts harder and then he feels it. It starts as thin cracks, a buzzing in the air that builds as Pitch clenches his hand harder.

He hisses and soaks it in, a desperate clawing fear that grows as Jack begins to struggle. The shadows let his arms go and his hands clutch at Pitch's arm, fingers digging ice into skin while his muscles shake.

But he doesn't try to pull Pitch off.

So Pitch leans in, presses his lips to that open mouth and doesn't stop. Doesn't stop thrusting and squeezing even as Jack's fingers start to lose their grip. Doesn't stop as the fear grows stronger while Jack grows weaker.

And oh that fear. Panicked and desperate and Pitch finally feels it break. Pulls back just enough to watch the ice shatter as Jack's eyes fly open.

Bright and brilliant living blue eyes, wide with panic.

And Pitch lets go.

And Pitch watches Jack come back to life.

Watches him shudder and jerk and heave down air and choke on it. Watches the way his whole body convulses as he sucks in air and comes against Pitch. There isn't a scream, there's barely any sound but labored, hoarse breaths. Pitch feels the fear break and shatter and he groans into the bruises on Jack's neck while he follows Jack's orgasm.

He curls over Jack, panting as Jack's breathing breaks into choked sobs. He wraps around Jack and runs his hands over damp white hair and kisses the tears away.

Jack curls into him, shaking and gasping and alive. And Pitch could almost cry himself when he feels the shake turning into a small, desperate laugh.

Everything will be alright. Sometimes Jack may go hollow and dead and empty. But that's fine, as long as Pitch can bring him back to life.


	18. Crashers

In which the party don't start till they walk in.

* * *

Christmas parties were a new but growing tradition with the Guardians. It was part of an effort to expand communication, something which had become more and more necessary with the arrival of The Troublemakers.

And it was the best night for all of them. North had delivered all his gifts Christmas Eve, children weren't paying attention to lost teeth, people were making their own happy dreams and Easter was far enough away that Bunnymund could enjoy himself.

They can actually RELAX. It's a generally calm event. The eggnog flows freely and Bunnymund is excitedly telling the story of some particularly good egghunts earlier in the year. North beams and doesn't even mention that it's HIS holiday that lets them do this.

He'll bring it up later though.

Bunnymund is in the middle of his story, eyes bright and grinning excitedly as he gets to The Good Part.

He's interrupted by a rushing sound and a loud crash from a nearby closet mainly used by the elves.

The mood shifts instantly, Tooths feathers ruffle and they all fall silent, weapons slowly coming out as they watch the closet door.

"Ow!" A voice voice hisses, barely above a whisper. "Get your elbow out of my face!"

North blinks and lowers his swords as more shuffling noises and muttered apologies drift out from the closet.

"Jack-?" He starts, only to get shushed by Sandy. The sandman holds a finger up to his mouth, grinning widely.

"Pitch..." Jack continues, voice still a rushed whisper, "where the hell are we?"

"You said you wanted in the Workshop, we're in the workshop." Pitch is less concerned with quiet, his voice comes out calm and low. The Guardians all bristle at the sound, even though Pitch doesn't seem too focused destruction at the moment.

"Keep your voice down! I wanted in the cellar. This isn't a cellar! Ow! Watch where you're putting your knees, God!"

"I don't know where the cellar is! You gave horrible directions!"

"Shut up just shut up! Where are we?"

"Can't tell you, I'm shutting up."

There's a dull wacking sound followed by an angry hiss. Bunny's staring at the door looking downright affronted while Tooth barely muffles her laughter behind her hand.

"Fine!" Pitch snaps, "since you're apparently BLIND-"

"I can't see in the dark you ass!"

"-and unable to come to any conclusions of your own," Pitch goes on loudly, ignoring the frantic hushing, "we're probably in some cleaning supply closet. Judging by the half eaten cookies everywhere..."

"Gross."

"Indeed, it's probably used by the elves. We're going to have to think of what to do when they start showing up or the little creatures will alert the whole damn shack that we're here."

Tooth nearly breaks down at that and barely muffles a snort with her hands, Sandy grins and winks at her.

There's a moment of silence from the closet while Jack seems to think over this dilemma. The Guardians stay silent and listen with growing interest.

"Hey..." Jack's voice is lower now, and they can almost hear the growing grin in it. "Wanna see how many of the elves I can freeze before the Wonder Brigade notices?"

North tenses at that, smile disappearing. There's another pause, this one heavier while Pitch considers it.

And they can DEFINITELY hear the maniacal glee in in his voice.

"Yes."

North decides that that is QUITE enough and huffs as he goes over to the door. There needs to be an intervention before the two actually start letting loose on the Workshop.

He marches over and yanks the door open with a huge, toothy grin.

There's a small explosion of movement as Jack and Pitch both jump at the same time and end up slamming into the various shelves and propped brooms, both freezing while cleaning supplies crash around them.

They can hardly fit in the cramped closet. Pitch is half bowed over and coiled over Jack, who's crumpled up against the tall man's sternum. Both have their various limbs tangled about and both stare out at the assembled Guadians with twin sets of bugged eyes.

"Oh shit," Jack hisses, "It's the police!"

Pitch shakes himself out of his shock to frown down at Jack. "The what-!?"

"Nevermind!" Jack yelps, "Just go-"

"Welllll we have visitors!" North booms, reaching in and ignoring the indignant and enraged yelps and hisses as he grabs both intruders roughly by the back of the neck.

Neither of them can hurt him while they're in his own home, that and the fact that both are a couple of twigs makes it far too easy to haul them out and hold them by their scruffs.

Jack is the first to recover and puts on his most charming grin, which is impressive given the large hand around his neck.

Pitch, on the other hand, flails wildly and lets out the strangest variety of vicious hisses North has ever heard. The large man raises his eyebrows while he holds the spitting and snarling Nightmare King out at arms length.

"Heeeyyyy North!" Jack says, sounding a little strained through his bright smile, "Merry Christmas!"

"Unhand me!" Pitch shrieks. North gives Pitch a little shake and then turns to Jack in his other hand.

"Ahhh Jack! This is surprise!"

"The hell are you two doing here?" Bunnymund snaps.

"Oh, you know." Jack says easily, "Just wanted to see what all the party was about. You know me and fun!"

"This little idiot decided he wanted to raid your cellar!" Pitch snarls.

"You SNITCH!" Jack gasps, smile gone, "If you had actually managed to get us where we were supposed to go...this is your fault!"

"My fault!?" Pitch's voice goes up a dangerous octave and he flails his arms, trying to wrench himself out of North's grip to strangle Jack. "MY fault!? This was your idea!"

"You said you could do it!" Jack yells.

"Gentleman, Gentleman please!" North says complacently, tightening his grip just slightly and smiling brightly when both miscreants yelp and sputter. "This is not season for such fighting!"

"I don't think they have much Christmas spirit!" Tooth says cheerfully. Jack cranes his head enough to stare at her with wide eyes, looking betrayed.

Sandy smiles and waves at both of them.

"Ah you are right!" North booms, giving them another shake when Pitch tries to claw at his arm. "They do not look nearly festive enough!"

Jack's eyes somehow grow bigger, "No! No, what? What are you- I'm snow and bright sparkling ice! I'm festive! I'm super festive!"

Pitch looks like someone who was just told they were going to be skinned alive.

"No!" He yells, "Don't you dare! Cossack! Put me down!" He bares his fangs, which are useless in North's home, "I'll find all your worst Nightmares North! Everything you've ever been afraid of!"

North beams at him, "Ah my friend, I would be more concerned with YOUR fears hm?"

Several elves skip out trailing garlands and tinsel and shining baubles and ornaments.

Pitch screams.

The Workshop explodes into a frenzied chaos. The air is filled with enraged hisses and shrieks, bursts of blue frost and desperate yelling. Ornaments are smashed and several elves end up getting bitten as the legendary Nightmare King goes absolutely feral.

Jack is the first to gain freedom and goes shooting at Pitch, trailing tinsel and frantically beating glitter off of his clothes. He throws his hand out desperately as he zooms over where North and Bunnymund are keeping Pitch captive and tied in yards and yards of tinsel. "Pitch! Come on come on come on!"

Pitch flails and manages to worm a hand loose, swiping and snarling when Sandy gets too close, and grabs onto Jacks hand. "GET ME OUT OF HERE SO WE CAN GO HOME AND I CAN **KILL YOU**!"

Jack doesn't acknowledge the threat, he just clings to Pitch's hand and bolts, dragging them both to the nearest shadow in the workshop. He practically throws Pitch into it and launches himself into his friends arms. "Go go go gogogogo!"

Pitch jerks both of them into the shadows, vanishing with a snarl and taking a box worth of ornaments, countless yards of garland, a pound of tinsel, a particularly ornate star topper and a lifetime's worth of glitter with them.

North surveys the damage left in their wake and bursts into laughter.

"Aahh we should invite them maybe next time, yes?"


	19. The Nightmare

In which someone has a nightmare and someone else needs comforting.

((SO, I dont usually do the "respond to reviews on the chapters" thing but this one cracked me up so bad that I had to reply somehow.

Guest 10/26/13 . chapter 18

"I love your story, but i didn't like the last 3 chapters, please return to the romantic and fluff stuff :\"

Oh. Honey. If you think this is a fluffy and romantic relationship in this fic then you really haven't been paying attention. I try to make it pretty clear that while these two are head over heels for each other, it's an incredibly codependent and unhealthily obsessive relationship.

It's called "Evil Boyfriends" for a reason. And future reference dude, the author will write what the author wants to write. "Lessons Learned" is the darkest this series gets, but my goal when I started this was to explore all the aspects of their relationship, which includes the fucked up shit that comes from a relationship that involves Pitch.))

* * *

It hits Pitch as soon as he walks into the lair.

There's fear.

Filling the air and saturating the stone. It's something bitter and sweet that invades his lungs and fills his essence. It floods him and he nearly falls to his knees, he has to catch himself on the wall, anchoring himself in the shadows because it's so, so perfect and heady and everywhere.

Pitch spends a few moments leaning into the wall, breathing deeply and ignoring the air because it's the FEAR he inhales. He doesn't even wonder where it's from or why it's in his lair, he's too lost in it. It's like a finely distilled drug specifically made only for him, like a perfectly aged wine that he somehow only just now discovered.

He wants to bottle this and savor it whenever he gets a chance. He wants to wrap himself up in this fear and lose everything else because he's quite sure he could sustain himself on this and this alone. Pitch could die now and become nothing but a shadow as long as he could still somehow soak himself in this fear.

It's pulsing in the air like a beautiful heartbeat and every tremor of it slides down his spine like a caress. The sheer force of it leaves him shaking against the wall, wondering which way is up and feeling like he's been pulled inside out in the most exquisite manner.

And what is this doing in his home?

The question creeps in past the sheer ecstasy of the fear, makes itself known and solidifies him enough that he can pull away from where he's leaning on the wall. The fear only gets stronger as he stumbles deeper into the caverns and he has to keep one hand on the stone to stay grounded. It's glorious and perfect and the most wonderfully quiet deep fear he has ever tasted, but it could be incredibly dangerous.

Pitch could lose himself entirely in this fear.

So he focuses on the stone as he follows the aroma of terror. He can't even wonder at the source, his mind is so clouded. His hand trails along the wall beside him, lethargic and listless and he feels like he's wandering through a haze as he meanders further and further into his home. Stars above this is far too good.

It's like a sudden drop and an explosion in his mind when he comes across the ice. The fear is strongest here and ice creeps along the stone, popping and cracking menacingly as it coats the floor and Jack it's Jack JACK.

He nearly falls again as his own panic collides with the sweet fear because it's perfect and cloying and wondrous but JACK is being terrified something is scaring his Jack and Jack doesn't get scared it doesn't happen Jack doesn't fear he doesn't cower something had to have come in and hurt him and left him terrified and filling the air with his syrupy drugged fear and something happened while Pitch was gone something terrible and JACK-

His legs are moving before he's even done panicking. He runs into the shadows and over the ice, runs through the sweet fear that clouds his thoughts while his blood pounds in his ears and his lungs become tight and solid. The fear only makes him stronger even as it drugs him, it makes the scythe that much sharper as he calls it into his hand, makes the dark even blacker while he sees red and breathes red and rage through the inhales of that fear.

When he finally finds Jack he nearly collapses for a third time. Jack who is uninjured but curled like a tiny animal within his pile of cushions. He's small and shivering and Pitch watches as each tremble sends a small pulse of ice traveling along the walls and floor.

He's vulnerable and soft and shaking and sleeping fitfully while the Nightmare watches him with a curious interest.

Pitch feels like he's intruding on something. Like he's walked in on something intimate and private. The Nightmare almost looks like a sentry, standing over and watching his Jack while the boy curls into a tighter ball. Pitch lets go of the scythe and walks in cautiously. The fear is strong and perfect, it's the sort of quiet and deep seated fear that was always so much better than any screams or jumps in the dark. And now he can feel the fear AND see Jack create it.

It's with a quiet reverence that Pitch lowers himself down next to Jack, a soft awe that has him reaching but not quite touching. Jack is a delicate little creature made of spun ice and soft flesh. The flush along his cheeks makes the rest of his skin look even more white, makes every facial twitch more pronounced as he frowns and winces.

Pitch lifts one finger, slowly, painfully, traces the tip along the furrows between Jack's brows. His breath shudders out of him while he runs his finger over the way Jack's fear comes through his muscles and skin while the air blankets and smothers him with the feel of Jack's fear over his tongue and down his throat, in his lungs and pulling through his veins.

Oh it would be Jack, it would have to be Jack making such a fear. Only Jack that could make something so perfect and finely tuned. Jack's fear is as complex and beautiful as his frost, as intricate as the swirling patterns on a window and as sweet as the crisp air on a winter morning.

Jack makes a sound as Pitch runs a fingertip over his cheek, a muffled, desperate and broken little whimper that steals all coherency from Pitch's thoughts. It's a single note of a perfect symphony, a broken little animal noise that is so like the sounds Jack makes while Pitch is inside him and taking him and breaking his mind down. Only now there's a slightly different tone to it, just a chord of difference that makes Pitch want to know if Jack's screams would sound different in the same beautiful, subtle way.

But screams involve pain, screams are something that involves tearing and destroying and no sounds would be worth breaking Jack that way.

He moves and curls his hand around Jack's face, cradles the curve of his cheek in his palm and rests his fingertips over Jack's forehead so he can feel it crease and twitch with every wave of fear.

Pitch needs to know, needs to see what has made his brash and bold Jack into this quiet little creature that whimpers and quivers under his touch. He inhales deeply, feels light-headed and giddy and overwhelmed by the terror that floods him as he leans in. Before he can draw in the next breath he sinks into Jack's shadow, dives down into him and drowns in the fear.

Jack wanders the lair and he's lost but that can't be right this is home he can't be lost here only those who aren't welcome get lost in Pitch's world. Jack could wander aimlessly for days and always end up in the main cavern or wherever Pitch is at the time, all the corridors and arches and twisting stairs lead to Pitch whenever Jack walks through them. Pitch is always there always there to draw him in and make him believed in but Jack is lost now and the walls grow darker and the air grows warmer.

"Pitch?"

His voice sounds too loud and not loud enough. It bounces off the stone and falls flat on his own ears, not even an echo left in it's wake. There's no sound, nothing to indicate he's even there. He can't hear his own footsteps can't hear his feet hitting the stone as he starts running and can't hear his own ragged breathing as it wrenches in his lungs and moves through his throat as a strangled desperate cry.

"Pitch!"

There's nothing there's nothing but silence and this isn't right! Jack is home down here this isn't a place of fear for him he's welcome he's wanted he's needed he's real and solid and believe in here!

There's a shadow ahead and he nearly cries then when he recognizes Pitch's tall figure. Jack runs faster, desperate and panicked but it's ok Pitch is there Pitch can make it better Pitch can touch him and make him real again and make him solid and make it so he can hear his own sounds in the dark Pitch can make the silence go away.

Jack is almost laughing with relief when he catches up to where Pitch is, almost weeps from the joy of it when Pitch turns to face him. He's laughing and smiling and ready to run into those long arms no matter how ridiculous he's being as Pitch walks towards him with that purposeful stride.

And goes through him.

His insides fill with molten heat and the heat rips through him and takes everything from him, it tears the lungs from his chest and leaves his organs scattered over the floor as Jack screams and clutches at his chest.

"No! No Pitch Pitch look at me Pitch!" He runs over to Pitch, who walks on who doesn't even look down at him. Pitch who is simply patrolling his lair with a slight frown as if he's thinking of something but who doesn't blink as Jack screams at him.

"Pitch look at me! Pitch please please I'm real please look at me I'm right here! Please!" He grabs at Pitch's arm, screams when his fingers fall through like smoke and as Pitch goes on. Jack is sobbing and flings himself in Pitch's path again and again and Pitch just walks through him and doesn't blink doesn't look down Pitch can't see him he doesn't believe in Jack he doesn't see him because Jack isn't real.

"No no no no no please oh god Pitch please please look at me please no don't don't don't please I'm real!"

Jack-

"Pitch Pitch I believe in you please please just look at me I'm real I know I am please Pitch don't do this!"

Jack!

There are shadows wrapping around his legs and arms and dragging him away from Pitch there are hands pulling him into the dark where he'll never be heard again and he screams and thrashes because he's real! He's real and just needs Pitch to see him and-

"Jack! Wake up!" Pitch digs his fingers in tighter, fights the urge to shake Jack but he needs to stop needs it to stop! It's too much and his throat is raw and tight and he can only breathe again when Jack jolts and wakes up with a gasp.

Blue eyes dart around, wide and confused as Jack clings to Pitch's arms. "What- Pitch?"

Pitch wraps around him, crumples Jack against his chest and buries one hand in damp white hair while he digs the fingers of his other hand into Jacks back. "It's alright Jack it's alright stop stop I'm here you're real I can see you just stop I have you I believe in you you're alright."

"What-?"

"I'm right here right here Jack you're real you're my Jack and I believe in you just-just-" His breath comes in quick bursts while he tries to get Jack closer but it's not close enough that was all too much. His head is full of buzzing and the echoes of Jack's screams and it had been beautiful and terrible and too familiar it was all too much and now he can't get Jack close enough and he can't find the air to breathe.

"Pitch? Pitch hey-" There's cold on his face, small hands on his cheekbones, pulling his head down to rest his forehead against Jack's. The air is cold here and he can feel the chilled puffs as Jack exhales and breathes against him. "C'mon Pitch it was just...I just had a bad dream calm down."

He sucks in the cold air that comes from Jack's lungs. Feels it cool his insides and bring him back down and leave him feeling drained and wrung out. He presses his lips to Jack's, kisses him again and again while he puts himself back together.

There's a smile against his lips even as the dregs of Jack's fear hang in the air. "Hey. hey come on-" Jack laughs into his kisses, shaky hands petting back through his hair. "Stop that hey- I'm the one who just had a nightmare here!"

"I know I know you did I know just don't-" He presses himself into the next kiss, wraps his hands around Jack's head and feels how solid he is feels how he laughs against Pitch's lips and how cold and soft his mouth is.

"What is your- why did you wake me up? I thought you'd like that, it's just your kind of weirdness."

Jack keeps talking and it's making kissing his mouth difficult, so Pitch moves to press his lips over everything else instead. He leaves hard kisses over Jack's cheeks and nose and forehead and maps his features in Pitch's lips, talking quickly between desperate presses.

"It was beautiful and wonderful it was the finest fear I ever tasted. Jack oh Jack your fear alone could keep me going it was like the headiest and most consuming drug it was like a wondrous and gorgeous death it was perfect and don't ever do it again!"

Jack laughs and burrows further against Pitch, thin arms wrapping around his middle and faces tilted up into Pitch's constant barrage of kisses. "Ok ok! Just keep your stupid horses off me when I nap then!"

Pitch leans in further, pushes his cheek against Jack's and breathes his cold and his calm. He stays there, feeling Jack solid and real and smiling.

Jack huffs a small, confused laugh as he rubs circles over Pitch's back, letting himself get crushed and smothered with minimal protest.

Neither of them move for hours.


	20. Needed

In which heated word are exchanged and Jack wants to make one thing clear.

(YOOOO WARNINGS we have got some porn all up in this chapter! Warnings for angry sex, fighting, and boys being dumb.)

* * *

"You can't go back there anymore."

It's not the first time Jack has heard it, it's not the third or even the fifth. And before he had been able to brush it off with a flippant rebuttal and a sure smile.

Now? He's sick of it. Sick of Pitch telling him where he can and cannot go, who he can talk to.

The cavern is usually welcoming and warm, it's home and safety and security and everything else Jack wants. But now it's stifling and claustrophobic. Jack is hyper aware of the roof over his head and the cloying heat curling around him. It wraps around him and instead of cradling him, it squeezes at him, clenches his chest and contains him.

Pitch doesn't even look at him. His face was perfectly blank as Jack came tumbling out of the tunnels that dumped him back home. Cottontail had decided that he'd had enough of Jack and barely gave any warning before stomping his foot as soon as Jack landed somewhere. But hey, Jack had been allowed to talk at him and generally make a cheerful nuisance of himself for almost three hours before that. For all of Bun's grousing, they had been having FUN.

He's still grinning and quietly giggling to himself (the final straw that got him kicked out may have involved a hill, a couple stone eggs, and an unexpected patch of ice) until he sees Pitch's face, calm and cool as he watches Jack pick himself off the floor and go quiet.

Pitch's eyes darted over him, face neutral even as they burned over Jack. Pausing here and there to take in the little details.

Grass stains here, a couple flower petals in his hair. A bit of color on his hands from where he had tried starting a paint fight (and had almost succeeded.)

He expects rage again, maybe if he's lucky he'll get thrown into a wall and roughed up a bit (hey, he can hope.) Instead Pitch narrows his eyes briefly, then looks away, turning to go back to his globe and schemes.

"You can't go back there anymore." Final. Done. That's all he says.

And Jack sinks his nails into the wood of his staff, grits his teeth while ice crackles from his hands.

"Why? Scared I won't come back?"

Pitch pauses for only a second, the shadows growing ever so slightly before he continues walking and turns to sit on a low broken wall. "No, I know you'll always come back, you have to. I just don't trust them."

He's so calm. He says it like there was never any question of Jack leaving. Like Jack will alway come heel and stay and do as he's told.

'You have to...'

Jack makes himself stay still, if he screams then Pitch will only mock him. He has to stay calm, has to stay controlled. The ice crackles along his staff and he watches that instead of looking up. If he looks up, if he sees how infuriatingly calm and assured Pitch is he might just explode..

"Sometimes," Jack says slowly, "I wonder why I stay."

That gets Pitch's attention. He goes still, every shadow on him darkening until he's almost entirely shrouded. Except for his eyes, fixed silver and gold on Jack. Pitch doesn't move, but that's always when he's at his most dangerous.

"Because you can't leave." He says coolly.

No question.

It's not an order. Not even a threat. Just a statement of fact.

Jack grits down, grinds his teeth and looks up sharply. Luminous eyes narrow at him in response, daring him, challenging him.

"You think so huh?" Jack sounds a lot more calm than he feels.

Pitch stands slowly, stalking towards Jack with evenly measured steps, eyes burning into him. "And where would you go?" He says silkily, "You think your little Guardian friends would take you in? How long would you last before you snapped? Before you went MAD with their little games and their talk of wonder and light and hope. You've seen too much of the world to put yourself with them."

He closes in, starts to circle Jack like a shark. The air grows heavy and thick and Jack can feel knives crawling up his spine. He grips his staff tighter and glares at Pitch, refuses to let the mounting paranoia get to him.

It's been a long time since Pitch's little tricks worked on him.

"Or maybe you'll try going out on your own." Pitch continues, voice overly light. "Is that what you want to do Jack? Go back to how you were before? What was that like, I must have forgotten." Pitch circles in closer, leans over Jack from behind and rests his sharp chin on Jack's shoulder. His other shoulder is covered in a large hand and warm breath ghosts over Jack's ear.

Any other time? It would be nice, Jack would lean into it and know it was comforting. Pitch would wrap around him and Jack would laugh at the breath tickling his neck.

But right now it's a claim, it's a show of power and a mocking caress.

Pitch's voices is soft, almost pityingly sweet in his ear. "But you haven't, have you Jack? You never forgot."

The air is thick, it seizes in his lungs and makes Jack have to suck in against the tight lump in his chest. Pitch makes a soft, satisfied sound and continues, the hand on Jack's shoulder letting go to wrap down and around his chest.

"Ohh yes you never forgot. How many other spirits did you try to talk to? I'm sure they entertained you for a little, but they never really saw what you were. To them you're nothing but an annoyance, something that gets in the way." Pitch's arm comes around to grab the opposite shoulder. Fingers sink bruises into Jack's skin as Pitch leans back and yanks him around to face him. He hates being pushed around but Jack allows it, glare ready to face Pitch's small, sharp smile.

"You won't leave because I'm the only one who really sees you. Because without me you're just a hollow and lost little wisp on the wind. You won't leave because you're afraid. Your fear is screaming, and you're so caught up and blind to it that it's almost a pity. You're paralyzed by it, you're SATURATED in it."

Jack stares at him, feels the air turn to ice in his lungs. He's raw and peeled and feels like he was just skinned by those eyes and calm, steady words. They scrape on him and he gasps in air as he remembers. Remembers wandering on the winds, wondering if he was real, remembers how nonchalant the other spirits were and the odd stares he got as he nearly went into a panic when someone talked to him. The way his insides were scooped out by every person who walked through him and every being who walked away from him.

But that's not all he remembers. And even as he struggles to get air into his chest he huffs it back out on a laugh.

Pitch's eyes widen slightly and he lets go of Jack's shoulder, blinking in surprise as Jack's laugh goes stronger.

"I'M afraid!?" Jack spits. "Me? Hi there, pot, call me kettle!" Pitch frowns at the phrase and Jack doesn't give him a second to recover.

"Yeah I remember, I also remember who I AM! I have a purpose outside of you! I have a past and I have something to build on! You don't even have that! You're NOTHING without me." He's never said it before, never admitted it and never put it into words. But he FEELS how true it is and he can feel the knowledge of it filling him, making him grin as Pitch steps back, staring at him like he's something new.

"You don't have anything of your own!" Jack hisses, "You don't even have your own memories to fall back on!"

Pitch snarls, teeth sharp, "Don't grasp at straws Jack. I don't have any memories TO own! I was always-"

"Bullshit!" Jack snaps, "That's bullshit and you know it! What about that stupid little trinket you always carry around?"

Pitch freezes, hand flying up and clenching on his chest over the spot where he always keeps the small, golden locket. "That's not-"

"That one that you just sit and stare at for hours." Jack walks forward, feels the rush as Pitch takes a step back. "The one that you just rub your thumb over like you're going to open it and then never. open."

Pitch hisses, eyes bright and almost panicked as his fingers clench protectively over where the locket rests. "That doesn't have anything to do with-"

"You're terrified of that thing! You said yourself that you carry it around because it scares you! And you always had it, always drag it wherever you go and then try to tell me you weren't anyone? That you don't have a past? Mr. 'I was always the fear', too afraid to even look inside a crummy locket." Jack keeps going forward, ice trailing behind him as Pitch backs up and snarls at him.

"You're pathetic" Jack growls. "You can't even face the possibility that you had something. Look at you! Hiding and cowering and scheming in your shadows to get back at the Guardians. When you found me you were barely a shade. You were fading and were going to KEEP fading and getting lost in your own head. You need me. You need me to cling on and to make you feel like SOMETHING believes in you." That one stings Jack, it's familiar, too familiar. But the difference is that Jack already KNEW why he needed Pitch, while Pitch doesn't admit to needing this just as badly.

He doesn't know why he's pushing. He knows that he probably could have just laughed off Pitch's order at the beginning of all this and it would have been business as usual. But Pitch is backing away from him, looking lost and terrified and enraged as his back hits the wall.

It's horrible, he hates it when Pitch is hurt hates it when Pitch is unhappy.

But Jack is the one doing this. Jack has this power, has Pitch silent and shocked and wrecked because Pitch. Needs. Jack.

Something snaps in Pitch's eyes. They narrow and sharpen and his whole body twists. He lets out an animal roar and blackness comes hurtling out at Jack.

But Jack is ready, he's seen Pitch fight, doesn't even need to think about it before he's shooting frost at the shadow, dodging it and letting it shatter into the floor behind him.

"You would be a whisper on the wind without me!" Pitch howls, pulling his scythe from the air, "You're only here because I pitied you!" He swings and throws himself at Jack, who bares his teeth and brings shards of ice to his hands. He dodges the scythe, yells wordlessly as he flings the razor sharp crystals at Pitch.

"You can't even stand me leaving for more than a few days!" Jack yells with another volley of shards. "You can hardly breathe without me!"

Pitch dodges and Jack pushes in, takes the chance to hook his staff around Pitch's legs and yank, shoving with the wind while he pulls back. He can't keep the triumphant smile off his face as Pitch goes down with an enraged scream, shadows writhing while he struggles to get himself back up.

Jack doesn't give him the chance, he flies forward, lands hard with one knee on Pitch's chest. He's always giving in, always being the one to placate Pitch and keep him calm and reassure him and he's sick of it.

Pitch grunts in surprise at the knee in his sternum, he's prone and on his back and he's going to listen for once in his damned life!

"You need me." Jack snarls, feeling the ice crusting over his words. "You're nothing but some desperate scrap of shadow clutching at the fears of little children without me! I brought you back to what you are now! I'm the only one who knows you well enough to put up with your stupid shit!"

He grabs the front of Pitch's robe, ignores the shocked and enraged sputtering as he yanks up and makes Pitch look at him. "You're MINE."

The silence is deafening.

Jack can hear his own panting as a distant sound over the pounding of his heart, other than that there's quiet. The rage is gone from Pitch's face, and instead he's staring up at Jack looking like he was just slapped. His eyes are wide and shocked and his mouth keeps opening and closing on something to say.

Jack bares his teeth and tightens the fist in Pitch's robe. He can feel something blazing beneath his skin like electricity and his eyes dare Pitch to argue with him, to try and deny it.

Pitch's next breath leaves him like it was punched from his lungs and his inhale is a slow, drawn out hiss. His eyes sharpen and narrow and he snarls back at Jack while reaching up to grab a fistful of shirt.

"Yes." he growls, wrenching Jack down into a bruising kiss.

It's more of a crash and harsh bite than a real kiss. Jack gets both hands into Pitch's robe and sinks his teeth into the warm mouth under him. He bites frost into Pitch's lips and licks ice against his tongue. He can feel the growl resonate against his teeth before he hears it and he bites down harder when Pitch shifts beneath him. The hand in his shirt twists, tries to throw him off balance and he bites hard enough to split Pitch's lip in warning.

Pitch gasps and snarls, "Jack-"

"Shut up!" He isn't going to get pushed around, he's SICK of being pushed around. He moves along Pitch's jaw, down to his neck and drags his teeth the whole way. Pitch's skin is burning against his lips and tongue, blazing hotter when he bites down over the fluttering pulse. The skin breaks and he can taste a hot metallic tang on his tongue but it's not enough! He sucks on the mark, growling in frustration because he can't make Pitch bleed, can't leave oozing and angry marks over that dark skin like Pitch always marks him.

Pitch's head tilts back, breath coming in strained and thready.

"Jack, you-"

Jack shoves down, slams Pitch into the floor hard and can't bring himself to feel bad at the pained grunt and wince he gets. "I told you to shut up! You're always talking! You fucking never stop talking!"

There are hands grasping at his shoulders and yanking him back down, sharp teeth nipping into his bottom lip and pulling. Jack bites back just as hard, he keeps one hand splayed on Pitch's chest to hold him down while Jack moves over him. He doesn't really think of how quickly Pitch opens his thighs to accommodate him. How easily Pitch hooks long legs over Jack's hips and arches up under him.

His head is full of static and anger. He's not even sure what he's doing but he bites down into Pitch's shoulder. Slides his hands underneath the dark robe and bites harder when Pitch grabs at his hair with a shocked moan.

Jack moves his mouth over Pitch's chest, leaving a trail of harsh dark marks while his hands explore the heated skin. He doesn't get many chances to really FEEL Pitch. Everything's always a rush of hands on him and holding him down and usually he can only grab onto something and hang on for dear life.

But for once Pitch is shutting up and paying attention, he's panting and dazed and finally letting Jack explore. And Jack wants to leave traces of himself everywhere. He doesn't have claws, doesn't have jagged teeth; but he can still drag his nails over Pitch's ribs, can send tendrils of frost swirling like lace over dark skin while he leaves black bruises with his mouth.

Pitch twists and makes a strained noise. The legs around Jack's hips hitch up and tighten, drawing him in closer. And on the one hand it makes Jack painfully aware of the searingly hot erection now pressed against his own; but on the other hand, Pitch doesn't get to be demanding right now.

He grabs onto the slim hips, digs his nails in and pulls up hard. "Hold still! God do you ever stop moving?" Pitch doesn't get a chance to answer, he only gets a glare in before Jack is kissing him again. He pushes his tongue in past Pitch's lips, feels like he's melting in how unbearably hot the inside of his mouth is. Jack grinds his hips down and it's not quite enough, not through their pants but God it's still good, especially when Pitch jerks and actually whines into his mouth.

Jack runs his hands over the top of Pitch's pants, growling when he can't find a clasp or tie or anything. How did his clothes even work?

"Take these off." He orders, tugging insistently on Pitch's hips.

Pitch snorts and looks up at him with a thin smile. "What? Too difficult for you?"

Jack is pretty sure he's trying to look condescending but the effect is ruined by his glazed eyes and the fact that he barely pants the words out.

"Take them off." Jack repeats, "Or I'm going to leave you here."

He means it, doesn't WANT to, and he'd really, really rather not leave. But he is not going to let Pitch take control of this. There are a few heartbeats of quiet as they glare at each other, Pitch narrows his eyes and huffs in annoyance.

"Fine." Pitch mutters, he gestures with a hand and the shadows fall away from him, leaving nothing but the robe and hot skin under Jack's hands.

He has to pause just to look at it all. The way the robe falls open, leaving a strip of dark grey skin covered in bruises and wet from the melted remains of Jack's ice. Jack brushes his fingers down. He starts at the dip of Pitch's collar bone, dances down the sternum to the hollow beneath Pitch's ribs and the flat plane of his stomach jumping under Jack's hand. His fingers leave swirls of frost and Pitch hisses as they trace over his chest.

"Get on with it!"

"Shut up." Jack replies calmly, not looking up from the patterns he's brushing over Pitch's sharp hips.

Pitch growls and buries his fingers in Jack's hair, twists and yanks him down into another violent kiss. "Now!" He snarls.

Jack snarls back and bites hard enough that Pitch's hands spasm and clutch at his shoulders instead. Jack grabs the thin wrists, twists and shove and he's pretty sure he just has the element of surprise on his side for this, but that's enough to get Pitch's hands slammed down on either side of his head. Before Pitch can fight back Jack freezes them in place, coating Pitch's entire forearms with ice.

"You seem to think," He pants, glaring into Pitch's wide eyes, "that this is about what YOU want."

And that's how it always is isn't it? It's always what Pitch wants, how Pitch wants it, when Pitch wants it. Everything is always focused on Pitch and what will make PITCH happy.

"Not this time," Jack murmurs, leaning down to mouth at Pitch's neck again and smiling to himself when Pitch presses his hips up to him and groans.

"Jack-!"

Jack nips at the skin under Pitch's jaw, sucking a new bruise over the bite, "I swear Pitch I WILL gag you!"

Pitch twists, arms straining against the ice while he pants. He always had to touch, always has to get his hands all over everything.

Jack grins and drags his tongue over Pitch's pulse while he reaches down to tug his pants down. He barely bites back his own groan when he finally frees his erection and feels the heat of Pitch pressing against the cold length of it.

He wants that heat around him, pulling him in and giving way to him.

"Oil" he gasps, "I know you always keep that oil in your robe somewhere, where is it?"

Pitch groans and shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. "No, no don't need it. I want it just like this Jack, don't want anything-"

"I don't care what YOU want!" Jack snaps. "I'm not going to fuck you dry!"

God. He's actually going to do this. His mouth goes dry and he has to swallow and catch his breath, gasping against the curve of Pitch's neck.

He knew that this was where he was headed, but it's different to say it.

He's going to fuck Pitch.

Hell yes he is.

"Oil," he repeats, barely keeping the grin down this time, "or I freeze your whole body down and leave you here like this."

Pitch makes a strangled, high noise and writhes against the ice on his arms. "Just- just reach into the robe. It should appear in your hand if you think about it-"

Magic. Stupid freakin magic. Jack winces as he reaches down and feels part of his arm actually go INTO the shadow of Pitch's robe. But sure enough, his hand closes on the small bottle that Pitch started carrying around 'just in case.'

He has to breathe slowly while he pours it onto his palm. Has to take a few moments to pull himself together and the way Pitch is arching and rolling impatiently under him is not helping. Jack clenches one hand on Pitch's thigh while he slicks himself with the other. The oil is warm from sitting against Pitch for so long and it's already almost too much. He pauses for a second, wondering if he should take more time to prepare Pitch. Jack knows first hand how much this can hurt.

Then he remembers that sharp little smile, the cocky twist to Pitch's lips,

'Because without me you're just a hollow and lost little wisp on the wind.'

Jack grits his teeth. Oh this will definitely hurt.

He sits back on his heels and yanks up on Pitch's hips until the taller man's lower body is practically in Jack's lap. It's already swelteringly hot and Pitch gasps on each breath.

Jack leans forward, braces his hands on each side of Pitch's slim middle as he lines up.

"Just remember, you asked for it." He growls. And without any further warning his thrusts in.

Pitch throws his head back, choking on a sound that's somewhere close to pain but closer to something else. Jack grinds his teeth and leans down until his forehead rests on Pitch's heaving chest. God it's too hot, his whole world is reduced to a tight and gripping heat and he's going to explode right now if he doesn't pull himself together. Each of his gasps leaves a thin layer of frost quickly melting over Pitch, barely staying for a second before it gives into the heat Pitch is emitting.

"Jack-" Pitch breathes. It's strained and hoarse and Jack could listen to Pitch saying his name like that forever.

He groans and rolls his hips, biting his lip against the sensations threatening to overwhelm him. Pitch makes another choked noise and thrusts up to meet Jack, arms straining against the ice holding them down while he moans and writhes.

"Jack, Jack I want you deeper want to feel you in me want you to fill me Jack I need-"

Jack growls and snaps his hips, "Shut. Up."

It actually works. Pitch breaks off mid-word into a startled whine as Jack starts slamming into him. Jack goes harder, not even trying to hide the noises coming from his throat as he fucks into Pitch with everything he's got.

Pitch bucks under him, panting out Jack's name with a hitch on each thrust and still straining against the ice on him.

"Jack, Jack please let me-I need to touch you need to feel-Jack!" He breaks off when Jack bites the skin over his heart, digging his teeth in and hanging on as he pounds into Pitch.

Jack can feel the pressure coiling low in him. A burning cold that makes Pitch's heat almost too much, brings him right to that edge of pain that makes him gasp and shake while his hips start to stutter. Luckily he can hear the way Pitch's breathing is becoming more labored, each breath growing reedy and desperate while he meets each of Jack's thrusts.

"Come on come on come on-" Jack mutters, reaching down between them to wrap a hand around Pitch's white hot erection. Pitch actually keens at the contact, barely making it through two strokes before he's shaking and leaving strips of hot fluid on Jack's stomach.

Jack whines in response, he's close he's so close and Pitch is going to melt him he is literally going to melt inside all this heat.

There's a hand clawing at his back and Jack realizes in a distant way that Pitch managed to find a way out of the ice. But he can't really be too upset about it when there are nails raking down his back and urging him on.

"In me Jack come on I want it, want to feel you come in me - come on Jack that's it that's it you're so good-"

His orgasm rips through him, makes his sob as he slams his hips into Pitch and holds them there, shaking and trembling as he comes and keeps coming into that impossible heat.

"God-" He gasps, collapsing down onto his elbows and dropping his head down onto Pitch's sternum. The hands on his back soften, turn to soothing strokes while the chest under his head heaves and shakes.

"That-" Jack gasps, then shakes himself and gathers his thoughts before he tries again. "I can see why that's always your first answer whenever you're mad."

Pitch makes a strange, muffled grunt of assent.

"And I'm still so mad at you but right now I don't even care."

Another mumbled noise. Jack blinks and lifts his head up just enough to look up at Pitch, whose sprawled and staring in a daze at the cages high above them.

"I think this is the longest I've seen you go after sex without talking." Jack notes. "Did I break you?"

Pitch makes another "mmng" noise and flops his hand against Jack in a way that may have been a smack.

Jack's eyebrows go up and he feels a slow grin forming. "I totally did. This is great! I feel way better now!"

Pitch manages a growled "quiet", though he still runs his fingers through Jack's hair.

"Yeah whatever," Jack grins, lying his head back down onto Pitch's chest. "I found the best way to get you to shut up."

Pitch doesn't make any sound of argument against that.


	21. Four Words

Only one more chapter after this!

Also, for everyone leaving encouraging sweet messages to "please keep writing!" you shoullld probably know that Evil Boyfriends has actually been a complete series for a while. It's already completely written and has been up on my AO3 site for a while now! I've only recently gotten onto and have been pretty much moving chapters over here bit by bit!

If you wanna get spoiled for the last bit of Evil Boyfriends, it's allll here: archiveofourown (.org)/ series/33727 and uh, take out the parenthesis obviously. wont let me post the link whoops.

* * *

"Love" is not a word that they say.

It's not from a lack of affection, or even a fear of showing said affection. There is nothing held back, no feelings locked away from each other.

But they never say "love."

It's simply not a word that occurs to either of them.

Love is something else. Love is LESS. It's too soft, too simpering a word for them. It's the Guardians and their light and hope and joy and wonder as they smile upon the world like they don't see the horror in it.

Love is about wanting to be with someone.

But they don't want to be with each other.

They need to.

It's a visceral thing that yanks them and sews them together. Makes them aware of every movement the other makes. It holds them up in a way that they never could by themselves. It's the edge of something that they both cling to, and only stay on because they have each other.

They don't say "love". Because there are other words that fit better. Other words that say so much more than "love" ever could.

Words that they'll scream at each other in the middle of fights. Words that are said through laughter that hurts their sides. Whispered as they hold each other and murmured against shivering and sweat-slicked skin.

Words that show what they need, how they need each other. Words that capture what they are in a way that love never could come close to.

So they'll hold each other, cling with a desperation that comes from feeling every edge where they aren't connected and say it with the press of lips and clutch of fingers. Breathe it softly as the frost and shadows grow over the both of them.

_I believe in you._


	22. Hello, Hello

In which a young winter spirit meets an ancient nightmare, and everything changes.

((So a HUGE THANK YOU to you guys. For me the Evil Boyfriends journey was over a while ago, but posting it over here has brought it back a bit for me and it was wonderful seeing a new group of people leaving your wonderful encouraging comments. YOU GUYS ARE THE AWESOME ONES!

Though I'm muttering angrily because is completely botching the formatting I had done on this document. Bah.)

* * *

"Is there something I'm doing wrong?"

The moon shines down, big and bright.

Same as it ever was.

Jack twists his hands around the staff and looks away from it, frowns down at the ground and at the frost forming under his feet. He's found a wide open field, barren now after the harvest. He likes the large spaces, it makes him feel exposed, like there was no way anyone couldn't see him standing on his own here.

"I mean...I've talked to others now...like me. Kind of like me at least. They said everything's here for a reason. Someone like me...I should have some believers right? You made me from human legends they said..."

He looks back up, stares up into the moon, hoping he'll see something he didn't before. Some sign that he had just missed.

The moon shines on. Wide and blank.

Same as it ever was.

Jack sighs and looks back to his hands, chewing his lip as he watches the frost move over the staff wherever he touches. "But...no one sees me. Even around where I woke up. And I think I'm doing what I'm supposed to. I When I'm having fun with the kids it feels RIGHT. But if that's not right then..." he pauses, glances away, then back up with a firm set in his jaw. "Then I think you could at least give me a hint!"

The moon shines on.

"If he's decided not to talk to you then I'd stop bothering." Says a low voice behind him.

Jack whips around so fast he nearly falls over, as it is he ends up hovering just off the ground holding his staff like a shield in front of him. Frost shoots out from his hands and crackles over the staff, bright and cold.

The man at the fence looks utterly bored with the display. He's definitely not human. The shadows cling to him like they're stuck to his dark robe. Even in the full moon it's hard to tell where the man begins and shadows end, he's a dark, stoney grey with luminous silvery eyes that watch Jack with minimal interest. He looks tall, stupidly tall, but it's hard to tell with how he's leaning over with an elbow on the fence and resting his chin on his hand.

"God! You scared me!" Jack sighs, lowering his staff.

The man's mouth twists in a little wry smile.

"Oh good, that's a relief. I haven't heard that in a while."

Relief? Jack frowns, waiting for some explanation. Or an introduction, since Jack was here first and all.

The tall man returns Jack's puzzled frown with the same look of utter and complete boredom.

"Alright..." Jack finally says, before the silence gets ridiculous. "so usually this is when you introduce yourself. Since you walked up and scared me out of my wits."

"You weren't actually scared." The man interrupts, "just startled. Unfortunately."

"I...alright then." The man doesn't seem to have any intention of leaving. But he also doesn't seem to be interested in hurting Jack at all, just in sitting there and being vaguely unnerving. "So, since you're not going to go first. I'm Jack. Jack Frost."

"Pitch" The man says after a short pause. "I've had plenty of more interesting titles, but you can call me Pitch Black."

It's familiar in a way that tugs on Jack's mind. It's something he should know, something he's heard before. Whispers about a time of dark, when the shadows ruled and everything was-

"You're the boogeyman." Jack breathes, eyes widening. The man wrinkles his nose at the name, like it's some childhood taunt he'll never be rid of.

"That," Pitch says shortly, "is not one of the more interesting titles. Of course it's the one that sticks." He sighs loudly and straightens up from the fence, frowning up at the moon while crossing his arms.

"I haven't talked to the dear Man in the Moon in thousands of years, if he has decided you're not worth talking to, then you won't be getting any answers from him. Consider yourself abandoned."

He says it so matter of factly, like it's something plain and simple. Pitch says it like it's something light and casual, like it's some comment on the weather. Like it doesn't stab through Jack. Doesn't hurt like the the yanking pain of children walking through him.

Abandoned.

"Then why...why did he put me here? If he's abandoned me why can't he just...tell me why?!" He clenches his hands, the hollow feeling in his chest starts to fill, turns to ice and sharp cold as frost crackles over the ground. "Why couldn't he just tell me!?"

There's a shifting noise and Jack starts when a shadow comes over him, blocking out the moon. He jumps back a foot from where Pitch looms over him, looking at him curiously. "Woah! Could you not give me a heart attack?"

"No." Pitch says blandly, "You're new?"

New?! He isn't new! He's been here for too long as far as he's concerned! He's seen generations go by! "I'm almost one hundred!"

Pitch looks at him pityingly, "Barely made then."

"Hey!"

"You're freshly woken," Pitch says, sounding more intrigued now as he begins circling Jack, frowning at him like he's a puzzle, "and you have no believers?"

"I-...how do you-?"

"Don't play stupid child, you were asking the moon what you were doing wrong. Believers are what you should be called from, we are made from the thoughts of humans."

"I know! I know that I just..." He's heard this before. Had it explained to other passing spirits. It's nothing new, though Pitch has hung around longer than most others.

"What were you before?" Pitch asks mildly.

Jack frowns at the strange question. Before? Before what?

"What do you mean, before?"

Pitch isn't even looking at him anymore, instead he's gazing up at the moon again as he waves a hand loosely in Jack's general direction. "Before this. Usually what you were before is related."

"I...wasn't anything?"

The shadows go still. It's an odd thing, seeing even the shadows from the grass freeze when Pitch tilts his head to look at him. At first Jack had thought he was just a little creepy, but now he can see how this man, with his birdlike face and eyes gleaming in the light, could inspire nightmares.

"You don't have any memories?" Pitch asks slowly. There's something more to the question. Something that's making the silvery grey of Pitch's eyes flash with gold. It's something that seems far too deep for Jack, something that could pull him in.

The shadows shift, curl around him curiously, and Jack appreciates someone actually looking at him, asking him about himself but...well.

He wishes that he had someone less creepy pay attention to him.

"Should I have memories?"

"Hm." Pitch hums, unhelpfully. "Interesting." With that wonderful observation, he turns and walks off. Leaving Jack staring open mouthed and sputtering at the lean back.

"Hey! Wait! Hold on a minute!" He flies over and hovers alongside Pitch, ignoring the way the shadows swirl like mist wherever the tall man steps. God Jack must really be desperate for someone to talk to if he's still trying with this guy. "You can't just walk away!"

"You are an interesting puzzle, but my Nightmares are beginning their work. And as odd as you are, I don't have the freedom to indulge in random musings like I used to."

"So you're just...leaving?" Pitch is weird, he's a little creepy, and he may be the legendary boogeyman that even spirits still whisper about. But this is one of the longest conversations Jack has add, weird or not. And he can't help but be a little curious, as to what the grand Nightmare King of old is like.

Pitch stops then, but he doesn't look at Jack. Instead he looks up at the moon again, frowning intently before sighing and bringing his eyes to the dark forest ahead of them.

"I'm not the answer to your loneliness." He finally says. There's something deeper in his words again. Something that seems familiar.

"No! God, no! I hope not geeze. No offense but you're kinda weird.. I just...could I come with you? Just for a little while. I didn't even know the boogeyman was still around. And not a lot of spirits take the time to talk to me, even for a little bit. I won't get in the way!"

"You just called me 'weird'." Pitch points out mildly, mouth twitching in a strange way "and you expect me to let you follow me around as I work?"

"Uh...yes?"

Pitch turns slightly to look at him then. Jack can't read anything in those odd eyes, which...were they gold now? Or grey. Either way, there's something strange and searching in Pitch's gaze as he looks over Jack.

"If you must."  
.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Centuries go by.

.

.

.

.

.

.

They laugh later, when they remember their meeting. At how ordinary it was. Nothing grand had happened, there hadn't been any feeling of the inevitable, of what was to come.

.

.

It would have been impossible to see then, how they would change.

.

.

How Jack, long after the blue sweatshirt has been reduced to nothing but worn threads, wears a hooded, fitted shirt made from shadows like a second skin.

And Pitch isn't even sure when he noticed that the frost on the edge of his robe stopped melting. When it became a permanent embellishment of lacy silver swirling on the hem of shadow.

.

.

.

.

.

Centuries go by.

.

.

.

.

.

.

They scream and rage, tear each other apart and build themselves back up. They clash and explode and meld together in new ways.

They find a new place for themselves in the world. They find a balance and make a small world of their own.

A world where everything is Pitch Black, and Jack Frost.

-End-


End file.
